


A Change is Gonna Come - Part Two: Black Smoke Rising

by Emi_theSassiestSousa



Series: A Change is Gonna Come [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asmodeus was a wasted villain and I won't stand for it, Bisexual Character, Cas Doesn't Exactly Know How to Be Romantic, Cursed Sam Winchester, Dean is Bad at Naming Things, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Emotional Hurt, F/M, M/M, Possible Sexual Assault Triggers, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Rescue Mission, Sam Knows But He Doesn't Know, Sam and Cas Actually Get Scenes Together, Things Get Worse Before They Can Get Better, basically this farm is horrifying if you start thinking about it at all, dean is a romantic, horrifying concepts hiding in the background, ptsd themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emi_theSassiestSousa/pseuds/Emi_theSassiestSousa
Summary: Any hopes for a break after a grueling week of hunting escaped monsters are dashed when a frantic phone call brings Sam, Dean, and Cas right back to where they left off: helping a worried selkie and their family in the waters of Northeastern Illinois.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since this Part has no other notes, I'm going to take this spot to say: This author does take constructive criticism, especially in areas such as sensitivity & respectfulness and content accuracy, but also definitely for writing quality.  
> -Also: Please don't hesitate to ask if there's something you'd like me to tag, on anything I write.   
> Alright, into the fun stuff! I present to you: Part Two - Black Smoke Rising!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {A Change is Gonna Come - Lyrics excerpt}  
>  _It's been too hard livin',_  
>  _But I'm afraid to die,_  
>  _'Cause I don't know what's up there, baby,_  
>  _Beyond the sky,_
> 
> _It's been a long,_  
>  _Long time coming,_  
>  _And I know,_  
>  _Change gonna come_
> 
>  
> 
> {[Black Smoke Rising](https://open.spotify.com/track/32BEasyNQgqXQJKoVa0fUw) \- Lyrics}  
>  _Did you know there was a tower,_  
>  _Where they look out to the land,_  
>  _To see the people,_  
>  _Quickly passing by?_  
>  _This is for their own desire,_  
>  _As they spit down to the earth,_  
>  _To feel the power,_  
>  _Boiling in their veins,_
> 
> _And the black smoke rises,_  
>  _From the fires we've been told,_  
>  _It's the new age crisis,_  
>  _And we will stand up in the cold,_  
>  _Stand up in the cold,_
> 
> _Many people are dividing,_  
>  _And a world apart,_  
>  _With just one heart,_  
>  _Is bound to keel and fade away,_  
>  _None of us will be deciding,_  
>  _And the fate of man,_  
>  _Is in the hands,_  
>  _Of he who stands and heeds the call,_
> 
> _And the black smoke rises,_  
>  _From the fires we've been told,_  
>  _It's the new age crisis,_  
>  _And we will stand up in the cold,_  
>  _Stand up in the cold_

### Prologue

 

A woman works over a large spell circle drawn on the floor. She's gathering ingredients and chanting, switching between multiple languages.

She throws something into her bowl and it flashes with a red flame. She smiles. This is going far better than the last attempt.

She picks up a cuff link from a pile of someone’s personal belongings sitting beside the circle, and drops it into the bowl.

Green sparks. She frowns. That’s not what she expected.

She continues working through the spell. Nearing the end, she pulls out a long dagger. Damascus steel. Ancient. She runs it across her wrist and bleeds into the bowl. Another red flame erupts from it.

She looks up, apparently expecting something. Nothing shows.

“Damn!” she shouts and pounds her fist on the floor.

She only allows herself a moment of frustration, right away she’s at it again. She empties her bowl and returns to kneel beside the circle.

One more time, she thinks, just one more time and it will work.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

### Chapter One

 

“You wanna take the lead this time or should I?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, I think I did the last demon,” Sam answered. He considered the door to their dungeon, currently shut. “Been a while since we had one of these, huh?”

“A while since we had a demon... God, our lives are so fucked up,” Dean said with a dry laugh and a genuine smirk.

“Hey, I know,” Sam’s face lit up and he looked out at the storeroom, “I found something a while ago. Here, I’ll go get it.” He bounced on the spot and strode away.

“This gonna take long or should I go make a sandwich?” Dean called after him.

“Five minutes! I actually know where it is!”

Dean waited by the door and started humming a song to himself. Something that Cas had him listen to a few days ago. Dean was pretty sure this one didn’t even count as rock— much less _his_ kind of rock— but it put a smile on Cas’s face whenever he tried out the songs Cas asked him to listen to, so what could he do. He usually ended up liking whatever Cas suggested, anyway.  
  
This one though... He couldn’t remember the words for the life of him, but he had the chorus stuck in his head. So he hummed, repeating his little snippet over and over endlessly. Actually, it was starting to drive him a bit nuts.

“So get this,” Sam said as he returned with a velvet jewelry box, opening it to show Dean, “it’s a truth amulet.”

Dean eyed the necklace— what looked like a coin strung on a thin chain. It was stamped with a woman’s face, which was embossed over a large “V”.

“A truth amulet, huh?” he asked skeptically. “What is this, somethin' to do with Veritas?”

“I _think_ so.” Sam took it out of the box. “The catalog card is damaged, can’t read most of it.”

“That’s not suspicious,” Dean quipped. “Probably won’t work anyway, we killed her.”

“Maybe. Here—” Sam moved to drop the necklace over Dean’s head. Dean immediately stepped back, a hand raised.

“Yeah, I’m not doin’ that.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Fine,” and slipped the necklace on. He spread his hands and said, “Ask me something.”

“Why won’t you let me cut those Loreal Locks?” Dean said immediately.

Sam's hands shot up to cover his hair, “Because it’s _mine_ and you can’t have it, Dean! Besides, it’s sexy.” Sam's eyes widened at his statement.

“Alright, so we know it’s compulsory.”

“Perfect,” Sam beamed.

“Hang on, can you lie?”

Sam gave Dean a once-over. “Uh... Zeppelin’s my favorite band.” He frowned. “Damn, I can, yeah.”

Dean laid a sarcastic hand over his heart, “Wow, you really know how to cut a guy deep, Sammy.”

“What, you’re wearing that shirt! It’s the first thing I thought of!”

“Wait,” Dean eyed him, “So what _is_ your favorite band?”

“Right now it’s Walk the Moon,” Sam blurted, “but that’ll probably change by next week.” He rolled his eyes at the necklace.

“No idea what that is, don’t wanna know,” Dean put up a hand. He lowered it, “Well, maybe. Later. Right now, demon.”

“Right.” Sam raised his hands to take off the necklace. “Hah, wish we’d found this years ago, this is going to be so much easier than—” He stopped, his fingers still wrapped around the chain. “...I can’t take it off.”

“Fuck. What?”

Sam let his eyes shut and exhaled through his nose. “I can’t take it off,” he answered.

“Here, maybe I can—” Dean grabbed the necklace and yanked up.

"Hey!" Sam stumbled forward.

“Just lemme get at the clasp—”

“There is no clasp.”

“Then I’ll get some scissors.”

“For a metal chain?”

“Fine! I think there’s bolt cutters in the garage!”

“Why do we need bolt cutters?” Cas asked as he returned with the holy water he had left for.

“Um... We, ah…” Dean tried. ...There was no way to make this sound good.

“This truth amulet is cursed. We were going to put it on the demon,” Sam answered, pointing at the necklace. He sighed.

Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean. “I left you alone for ten minutes and you cursed Sam.”

Damn that eyebrow. Dean shrugged under its scrutiny and shuffled his feet.

Cas just rolled his eyes. He reached up a hand to remove the necklace, not even bothering to look at it as he—

It didn’t budge.

Cas did a double take.

His hand glowed with grace and he tried again.

Nothing.

He looked up at Sam. “So there’s bolt cutters in the garage?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered more easily. "C'mon, let’s go.”

Dean held back at the door as they moved off. “You mind if I do the demon without you?” he asked Sam.

“Yes. It’s been years but I still get uneasy when you torture.” Sam winced and clamped his jaw.

 _“Aaand,_ I hate this thing. Alright.” Dean turned to Cas, “You get this off of him, I’ll be here with Smokey the Bear.”

Sam and Cas gave him a Look.

“Smokey the Bear?” Sam asked.

Dean smiled wide, “Yeah, smoke? He's a demon?” His face dropped. “Shut up.”

“You should wait for us, Dean,” Cas said, "you shouldn’t interrogate a demon alone.”

“What, you too?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point. It’s not safe, you should wait.”

Dean rolled his eyes, _“Fine._ I’ll just come with you.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

An hour and several broken tools later, they sulkingly returned to the dungeon door.

“That was a _diamond tipped_ saw blade!" Dean co.plained yet again. "Do you know how expensive that was?” 

“No I don’t,” Sam answered unwillingly. He sighed at it. “Why are you even upset? You didn’t pay for it anyway.”

“It’s the principle of it, Sam!”

“Could we just interrogate the demon?” Cas grumbled.

“Yes,” Sam had to answer.

Dean huffed and opened the dungeon door. The demon was chained to the chair in the middle of the room, right where they had left it last night after returning from Illinois. It sat straight up as they approached.

“I ain't gonna tell you shit!” it shouted bravely.

“That's great, you want a fast death or a slow death?” Dean asked.

“They're gonna kill me if I tell you anything anyway—”

“Yeah, I just skipped that part. Keep up, buttercup,” Dean rolled a hand. “Your choice, fast death or slow death?”

The demon didn't answer.

 _"Hm._ Alright then.” Dean picked up the demon's oddly large gun from where it was currently clipped to Dean's belt. He waved it at the demon, “Why were you at that beach with a net gun?”

The demon slumped in its chair. *I needed to collect the afancs,* it muttered.

 _“Ahh,_ a fast death then, good choice.” Dean rewarded the demon with a sarcastic smile. “Looks like I won’t have to torture you after all. So you were collecting the afancs, huh?” Dean put some pieces together. “Let me guess, the guy who got stabbed at the marina…?”

“He got in the way,” the demon shrugged.

“Right.” Dean backtracked a bit, “So you needed to return the afancs to…?”

“To the farm.”

“Of course. _The_ farm,” he couldn’t keep the impatience out of his voice. “And who's running this farm?”

“A witch,” the demon nodded.

Dean waited for elaboration that never came. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “And they work for… who? Asmodeus?” he prompted.

“Asmodeus?” the demon quirked its head, “Nah, it's Crowley's farm.”

They all raised a simultaneous eyebrow at that.

Sam jumped in, “Hate to break this to you, but Crowley's dead."

“What?” the demon said, looking between them, “No he isn't.”

“ _Aaa_ -yes he is,” said Dean, “we watched him die.”

“Okay, well that’s great and all, but I just spoke to him yesterday, so…” the demon trailed off.

Dean could see he wasn’t going to convince this demon with the truth so he abandoned the topic. “Gimme the scoop on this farm. Where is it? What’s it for?”

“Well,” the demon looked up at the ceiling, “it’s up in Wheatland— nobody gives a flying fuck what you do in Wisconsin, you know. Minimal security. The witch is there. She breeds the monsters and we take the ingredients harvested from them back for spell work.” He tipped his head. “And furs. You get a high price for a good _dobhar-chú_ or a selkie pelt.”

Dean and Cas’s eyes shot to Sam.

His disgust and fury were palpable.

The demon looked between them all, “What, you guys with PETA or something?”

“No,” Sam answered.

“But you’re about to wish we were _only_ as shitty as they are,” Dean said. He shared a look with Cas and they turned to give Sam some room.

“Hey!” the demon called, looking desperately between their retreating backs and Sam’s rapidly deepening scowl, “Hey! You promised a fast death for information!”

“Yeah, about that,” Dean said as he leaned against the wall at the back of the room, “we lied. You understand, right, demon?”

“No— Hey! Hey! _Wait—!”_

 

———

 

They left the dungeon a short time later, Sam leading the way and wiping the demon's blood from his hands. With a hint of pride, Dean noticed that he didn't spare the blood a second glance.

“Alright,” Sam said, pocketing the rag to burn later, ”so who’s up for a trip to Wisconsin?”

"Oh come on, we just got back!” Dean complained. “Besides, Bris said the farm got flooded out.”

“There must be something left of it, since that demon intended to collect the monsters and return them there,” Cas noted.

“They coulda moved it or somethin’, besides, the selkies are fine now. C’mon, we _just_ got home—”

Sam’s phone rang. He wiped his hand on his shirt once more and pulled it out of his pocket. He didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

 _“Sam? Sam the Hunter? ”_ a ragged voice asked.

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “Who’s this?”

_“It’s me! It’s Direl! Oh, Sam, thank God this number works— ”_

“Direl?” Sam said. Cas and Dean perked up. Sam put the phone on speaker. “What’s wrong, Direl?”

_“God— Everythin'! Everythin'! They got everyone! They're all gone! The island— it burned, Sam, the island burned!”_

Sam’s heart dropped to the floor.

Dean hissed through his teeth. *Shouldn't’a gone with 'Smokey the Bear'.* he mumbled.

Sam and Cas turned to him, horrified.

 _*Dean!*_   Sam hissed. Dean shrank from him.

_“Jena is dead, Granz is dead! Oh god, they took everyone! They gots everyone—!"_

“Hey, Direl, calm down, man,” Dean cut in, trying to shrug off Sam’s continued glower. “You gotta calm down so we can help you, okay?”

 _“Dean?”_ Direl asked.

“Yeah, man, and Castiel, too, we’re all here. Where are you, Direl?”

 _“I don’t know! I jus’ swam as fast as I could! Jus’ legged it! I— I ran! I abandoned them, I ran away! Oh god, Grantz is dead— Everyone! They got everyone—"  _his breath rattled over over a sob, _"Oh Lord, what am I gonna tell their wives? How am I even gonna find their husbands and wives—?” _

“Hey! Look around you, Direl,” Dean ordered with a bark, pulling out his own phone. “Stop talking and look up. What do you see?”

The authoritative tone seemed to be what Direl needed. They heard him take a few harried breaths, _“There’s a… a church. There's a church up the hill. And, ah… somethin’ big, like a warehouse or… is that a school?"_

“That’s great, Direl,” Dean encouraged, “You got a street sign? What’s the name of the church?”

_“I don’t— I can’t— The sign is in English—"_

“Direl, you know English,” Cas reminded him.

 _“Oh, Lord, I do, don’t I? Oh God,”_ he took a deep breath, _“okay, um, it says, 'St. John the Baptist, Roman Catholic Chur—' Oh God, thank the stars!"_ he cried out, _"Oh good Lord above us!"_

Dean typed the name of the church into his phone. _“Aaand_ got it,” he said, “he’s in Johnsburg. Okay, Direl? I want you to go into that church and don’t come out for anyone, you hear? We’ll give you a codeword, okay?” He searched the room for a good one, his eyes landing on Sam’s necklace. “Veritas, okay? Can you remember that?”

_“Veritas? Yeah, ah, okay. Yeah, I got it.”_

“Alright, you go into that church and do not come out for anyone unless they give you that codeword. Even if they look like us, you leave for no one, got it?”

 _“Yes. Yes, I can do that.”_ They heard the crunch of his shoes as he walked toward the church.

“It’s gonna be about ten hours before we get there, so hang on, man, okay?”

 _“Yeah, okay,”_ he breathed. They heard the church door open. _“Oh thank the Lord, I thought the American churches would be locked.”_

“We’ll be there soon, Direl,” Sam assured him, taking the phone off of speaker as Cas and Dean left to gather their supplies.

_“Thank you, all of yous. Oh God, I’m so glad Bris had this number.”_

Sam’s heart dropped again.

“Direl? Is… is Bris there with you?”

The sound of Direl’s shoes on the hard floor of the church stopped.  _"Oh. No, Sam, she— She got taken, too.”_

Sam released a sigh of relief even as his chest clenched tighter. That meant she might still be alive. “Thanks, Direl. We’ll be there soon, okay? Ten hours. Tuck yourself away and turn off the phone you’ve got. Check it once an hour in case we need to reach you.”

_“Alright. Thank you, Sam.”_

“No problem, Direl, see you in a bit.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

The early December winds whipped at the sides of the car as they flew down the road, Dean asking Baby for all she had.

Unfortunately, all she had was a 24 gallon tank, so despite Sam’s protests, they had to stop for gas somewhere in Iowa.

As he drummed his fingers on his thigh, willing the gas to pump faster, Sam’s phone buzzed.

_THeyre here_

Sam typed a reply as Dean hung up the handle and got back in his seat. “I got a message from Direl,” Sam said.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked as he started the car.

“I don't know. He just said: ‘They’re here’.”

“Well he’s got the ominous part down,” Dean huffed as he pulled back onto the road.

Sam’s phone buzzed again.

 _Who’s there?_ Sam had asked.

 _Dont know,_ Direl now answered, _b_ _ut theyre here_ _. I see them out the window_

Sam relayed the message.

“It’s like noon on a Saturday,” Dean said, “there’s gonna be people at a church.”

Sam relayed that message.

_I know that!! But it's them!! Theyre just standing about outside!!!_

Sam relayed the—

For fucks sake. He called Direl and put him on speaker again.

_“Hello?"_

_"Who_ is there, Direl?” Sam asked.

_"The blokes from the island!"_

"And they are...?" Dean prompted.

 _“Hows the fuck should I know!? I can’t even see their hearts! I mean, it’s almost like they don’t even got any! Or maybe...”_ he paused, probably peeking out the window, _“...like they’re mangled to drobes..."_

“Probably demons,” said Cas.

“ _What? Demons!?”_

“Oh, shit,” Sam remembered a conversation he had with Bris. “Yeah, sorry, Direl. Demons are a real thing.”

 _“Holy Jesus, Joseph, and Mary… Wait, what do demons even wants with me? How’d they even find me? _”

“Demons probably took your family,” Sam had to answer, though he wished he could spare Direl this for now. “And I don’t know how they found you.”

“Well, he’s gotta be in the only Catholic church for miles,” Dean said.

“No, there are plenty in the area,” Cas assured them, "besides, demons aren’t that smart.”

“Um... alright,” Sam faltered. “Look, um, just don’t panic, Direl, and stay low. If they come inside, just keep away from them, okay? They should leave soon, and if they don’t, we’ll deal with them.”

_“Alright...”_

“Hey,” Sam said gently, “I know this isn’t a—” What did Bris call it? He had _just_ looked this up,  “—a craic, but we’ll be there soon. Just a few more hours.”

_“It’s pronounced ‘crack’ but thanks, boyo.”_

“Sorry. No problem, Direl. See you soon.”

_“Aye. Bye, Sam.”_

Sam hung up and tucked his phone away.

“Crayck?” Dean mocked.

“What? The dude’s having a panic attack.”

“So you thought butchering some Irish slang would help him?”

“Oh, ‘cause you’d do any better!”

“Yeah, 'cause I know better than to try.”

Sam frowned at him and sank lower in his seat.

 

~*~*~*~

 

They pulled into the church's bumpy, cracked parking lot by mid-afternoon. Moving quickly, they discreetly armed themselves before facing the ornate building.

"Cas?" Sam asked.

Cas scanned the few people standing around outside, then he pointed, "There, at the side, there's two—" 

Sam took off.

"Hey—!" Dean called after him. "Damn it... Come on, Cas, we gotta keep these people distracted... Excuse me!" he shouted kindly as he headed for the group at the front of the building, "I'm looking for Saint John's...?" 

A moment and two muffled screams later, Sam rounded the corner.

"Hey, thanks!" Dean smiled as he started backing away from the people who had been gently reassuring him that he was indeed in the right place. "Right, of  _course,_ I just get so turned around sometimes, you know— Yes, yeah— Thank you again—"

Dean had to jog to catch up to Sam, unable to so much as shoot him a glare before he burst through the front door.

"Direl?" Sam called out, startling the few parishioners already seated before the evening service.

A dark head of hair poked out from an alcove, “Sam?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “Veritas, it’s us, Direl.”

“Oh, thank God!” He bounded out towards them. His clothes were torn, muddy, and possibly burnt. He leapt at Sam with a crushing hug, then took Dean and Cas in an arm each, even as they went stiff at it.

Direl dropped his voice to a whisper, *They came. The _demons_. I seen ‘em out the window, just like I told ya!*

"Yeah, we, ah, we took care of that," Dean said as he side-eyed Sam.

"They waited around for hours, like they was tryin' to smoke me out! Thank goodness the good Lord sent me to some hallowed ground, eh?"

“It's far more likely they were simply lazy," Cas said. "Demons hold no reverence for churches, and God almost certainly didn't lead you here."

Direl snapped to look at Cas as though he was seeing him for the first time.

"What?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I'm sorry, it's just— Bris said you’re an angel, didn't she. An’ not one a’ them damned cupid cunts, neither—” He slapped a hand over his mouth.

“I am,” Cas said with a squint, "though I'm not sure how sheknew that..."

Direl tipped his head back to the vaulted ceiling, “My stars, a  _real_ angel... Dear Lord, I’ll never miss another service again.”

“If that makes you feel better, but I assure you it’s not necessary.”

“Hey, sorry guys, but,” Sam interrupted them, “we should get out of here and figure this out.”

“What? Leave?” Direl squeaked, looking around the church.

Sam's expression softened with Direl’s panic. “Here.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a flask.

Direl balked at it, “I’m _absolutely_ not about to get fluthered in God’s house.”

“It’s holy water."

“Oh!” Direl snatched the flask.

“Keep that on hand and just throw it in the face of any demon who comes for you. And don’t worry,” Sam assured him, “you’ve got us now.”

Direl beamed at him, and happily followed them out of the church.

 

———

 

“What kind of town doesn’t have a diner?” Dean complained as they sat down at a dingy pizza place up the road.

“Dude, there’s like, a hundred people in this town,” Sam said.

“Six-thousand three hundred and thirty-seven,” Cas corrected.

“That’s still tiny,” Sam insisted.

“Thirty-eight,” Cas amended.

Sam raised an eyebrow. Dean smirked.

“Thirty-seven,” he said with a frown.

"Condolences,” Dean said.

“Don’t worry, they lived a full life.” 

"Guys—" Sam started, but was interrupted by the waiter that came to take their order.

“Alright, Direl,” Sam said as soon as the waiter left, “can you tell us what happened?”

Direl flinched. He closed his eyes, nodded, and slowly began:

“We was, ah, we was celebratin’ all day after ye left. All day, an' all night. An' things was goin' grand, we were gettin’ plum ossified, an' the meat were roastin’, an' we was all singin' an'— and, ah— but then—" he looked up at them, "but then all these people came outta the trees! Just— just outta nowheres! An' they started shootin’ these nets at us! Jumpin' people an' shootin' nets an'— an' we fought back! We did, I swears! But they had knives a' their own an'— Oh god, they got Granz, they got Jena—”

“Hey...” Sam put his hand on his shoulder. Direl flinched from it, then relaxed some. “What happened next, Direl?”

“Ah— Right,” Direl swallowed. He sat up a little straighter to continue. “The fire happened next. An' I swears it had a mind of its own. It circled the island, trappin’ us all. That was when Bris ran at me, an' she shoved this in my hand—” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tattered napkin, water-stained and crumpled, “—an' she told me to run. Just run an' get help. An’ I told her to come with me,” he turned to Sam, his eyes pleading, “I did, I begged her to come with, but she said she had to stay. Then she got caught in a net and I—” his head dropped, “I ran like she said. I leapt through those flames and I ran, jus' like she said. I just kept swimmin' an' when I couldn’t swim no mores I went up a canal and I just… I passed out I think.” He dropped his head in his hands, “Oh, Lord, what would Ballo say?"

Sam couldn’t take his eyes off the napkin, now sitting on the table. He had just handed that to Bris yesterday. Just yesterday morning...

“Then you stole yourself a phone and found the church?” Dean prompted.

“Aye, I wandered into a pub or somethin' down the road, there, an' I knicked someone’s fancy yoke, yeah,” he pulled the phone out of his jacket pocket, turning it over in his hands. “Should prol'ly give it back.”

“Keep it for now,” Dean said. “You might need it again before this is over.”

“But— Well— alright,” Direl sighed, tucking it away again. “I don’t like it, but alright.” He looked up at the three hunters. “So now what?” he asked.

“Now,” Sam answered, his eyes still locked on the napkin, “we find that farm.”


	2. Chapter 2

Days.

It had been _days._ Sam was starting to pull his hair out at the impossibility of it all.

There was nothing in Wheatland, WI. Nothing. Sam wasn’t even sure how it was qualified as _town_ there was so much nothing to it.

They had driven up and down the river, checking every back route and service road from Antioch, IL to Burlington, WI. Twice. They had rented a boat and searched the river, at least three times. Direl did his best to help, but he didn’t recognize anything north of the state border. It had been dark when the selkies had escaped the farm a month ago, and they had been panicked, fleeing for their lives.

Now Sam was alone, going over their maps one more time, when Dean burst into their motel room. He slammed the door shut behind him and collapsed against it.

Sam leapt from his chair, gun already drawn, “What is it?”

Dean snapped up to Sam. "Shit— Sorry. It's nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“You don’t get to come in here like that and tell me not to worry about it,” Sam said, his body still tensed for action.

Dean ran a hand over his face. “Fine. Look— it’s fuckin’ Direl. I guess the shock of the last few days has finally worn off.”

“What?”

“He’s _relentless,_ Sam!" Dean burst. "The goo-goo eyes and the pick-up lines— it’s driving me nuts!”

“He's  _flirting_ with you?”

“He’s trying to eat me alive, man!”

Sam pursed his lips as he tried not to snort. "Well I guess now you know how the other side feels,” he said as he holstered his gun.

“Hey! When a girl says stop, I fuckin’ stop, okay? Don’t you try to put that shit on me.”

“Well have you tried telling him to stop?” 

“Of course I—” Dean paused. “Oh, um, guess I haven’t. But he should be able to tell that I’m not interested! It’s not that hard to tell when someone’s into you or not!”

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t be picking that up, it's beyond shitty that he doesn't, but ‘stop’ is pretty unequivocal.”

“Shut up with your fancy lawyer talk.”

“Pre-law.”

“Do I look like I care right now, Sammy?”

Sam sighed. “No,” he answered, his tongue pulling against his will. He bit it in retaliation.

“Shit,” Dean said, looking down at the amulet on Sam’s chest, “we still gotta get that thing off of you.”

“Later.” Sam went back to the large satellite map spread out over the table. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he said for the umpteenth time, “something should be visible. The ponds, or some buildings, o-or clearings, something!”

“Well if Crowley built this place, we know he woulda put some crazy warding on it.”

“He might not have built it, he might have taken it over from the last King.”

“Okay, then he would have upped the protections, same thing.”

“Do you think…” Sam trailed off.

“What?”

“Well... Do you think there was something to what that demon told us back in the bunker? Could Crowley really be alive?”

“No,” Dean said with finality. “He’s dead, we watched him die.”

Sam looked up from the table at Dean. “Do you _think_ he’s dead or do you just _want_ him to be dead?”

Dean glared daggers at him, and Sam recoiled from it. He probably deserved that, but the honest hurt behind Dean's eyes— that was unexpected.

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

“Shut up," Dean huffed. "You might be right anyway. We should at least check it out, we’re running out of leads. I’ll go get—”

The door opened again and Direl and Cas entered. Cas slammed the door behind him, and it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.

“—Well, speak of the devil.”

Cas whirled around, drawing his blade.

“No, ah—! Sorry, buddy,” Dean crossed to him and put a hand on his arm. “Turn of phrase, sorry.”

*Right,* Cas mumbled.

“So. Wheres to next?” Direl asked cheerfully.

Cas— who up until this point, Sam had thought was finally getting along with Direl— now clenched his fists when the man spoke.

“Nowhere,” Sam answered. He cursed at the necklace. “We do have another lead to check, but you should stay here,” he pointed at Direl.

“What? Why?” 

 _Damn it._ Sam tried to bite his tongue, but he was quickly coming to realize that never worked. “Because we know the person who might own the farm and he probably won’t like that we’re keeping you around.”

Direl’s face scrunched in confusion, then fell with hurt, before finally landing on a dangerous anger.

“You know the bastard what runs that farm?” he said under what might have been an actual growl.

“Yes,” Sam had to answer. “But he’s not a friend!” he clarified quickly.

“An' you’ve just been keepin’ that to yerself? Didn't think to clue me in?"

"We only just—"

"And you're just keepin' me around, huh? Puttin’ up with me? You look here, boyo, you’re not keepin’ me around, I came to you!”

Apparently answering his own questions negated the will of the necklace. “That’s not what I meant, Direl," Sam said of his own volition, "that just slipped out. We’re here to help you, really—”

"'Just slipped out'— Well maybe if you had a better hold a' yerself we'd actually—"

 _“Hey,”_ Dean stepped between them, facing Direl, "Calm down, man, we’ve all got the same goal here.”

“Then I’m comin’ with!”

“That isn’t a good idea,” Cas stated.

Direl turned to Cas, still furious, but seemingly ready to listen to the angel.

“It won’t be remotely safe, and you should stay here,” he said.

“But—”

“Your presence would be a hindrance and could get all of us killed.”

Direl winced. “I— erm—”

“Well that’s settled,” Dean said, and Sam thought he saw a hint of a smirk behind his eyes. “Come on, let’s go.”

As the three of them walked out the door, Dean turned back to Direl, “If we’re not back by sunrise, call the number under ‘Jody’ that I put in your phone. And if she doesn’t answer, call ‘Donna’.” He paused. “Actually, just call any woman's name in that phone and if none of them answer you’re probably fucked anyway, so… At that point you might as well call Garth. He’d probably get a kick outta you.”

Dean swiftly shut the door behind him and locked it.

Direl sat slowly on the edge of the bed, pulling out his flask of holy water and holding it tight.

 

———

 

Not far from the motel, they found an old, abandoned barn to set up a Devil’s Trap and a summoning spell in. They retrieved paint from the trunk, found a wobbly table in the back, and Sam started arranging jars of ingredients.

Cas set down their metal spell bowl with a clang.

Dean looked up from his work painting on the floor, “Hey, what’s eatin' you, buddy?”

“Nothing is— Right, a turn of phrase.” Cas nodded. “It’s Direl.”

“What about him?” Dean asked.

Cas shrank back, suddenly hesitant to answer.

“Come on, man.”

Cas sighed, resignedly tossing his hands as he turned to Dean, “He... proposed that we form a ‘partnership’.”

“He _what?"_  

Cas winced, averting his eyes from Dean. “He asked to form a partnership. I recognized his innuendo and turned him down, but he insisted anyway.”

“That fuckin' _sleazebag,_ I _swear_ I’m gonna—”

“Wait a minute,” said Sam. “What exactly did he say?”

“He said we should form a partnership.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

Sam raised an eyebrow over a contemplative frown, "Huh," and returned his attention to the spell's ingredi—

“What are you thinking?” Cas asked.

_Damn it._

He bit down on his tongue. It tried to move anyway. He bit it harder and clamped his jaw, soon tasting blood in his mouth. But just when he thought he was going to break from the pain—

His hands went flying, jumpy and rushed, signing what he refused to say out loud.

He finished with a sigh and dropped his hands back to his sides.

“What…” Dean stared at him, “What was that?”

“Yes, that signing was awful, Sam, I didn’t understand half of it,” said Cas.

“It was sign language,” Sam answered Dean. “And I’m _not_ going to repeat myself.” His tongue obeyed him. The necklace seemed satisfied.

Cas squinted at him, but didn’t ask another question.

Dean, however, continued to eye him carefully, “Hey, maybe you should sit this one out.”

“What? No way.”

“What if Crowley actually shows and asks you something?”

“Then I’ll figure something out. I’m not leaving, Dean.” 

Dean looked him over with a pinched expression.

"What?" shot Sam.

"Nothin'." Dean returned to his paintbrush. "Just finish your little potion there so we can get this over with."

Concern twitched around Sam's eyes, but he didn't ask further.

Dean finished the Trap, he and Cas got into position beside it, and Sam recited the spell.

He finished, and waited for the result, but the barn was silent save for the wind whistling through the gaps in its tired, gray wood. They waited, and they waited... but it seemed the spell hadn't worked. In fact, Dean was about to suggest they leave when—

The Devil’s Trap sparked with purple flames. Then it erupted in a blinding flash, burning away completely, and when they were finally able to look back—

 

“Hello, boys.”

 

—Rowena MacLeod smirked back at them.


	3. Chapter 3

“Rowena?” said Sam. “I didn’t summon you.”

“And you surely couldn’t, darlin’,” she smiled warmly at him.

“So what the hell are you doing here?” Dean demanded.

She turned to Dean with narrowed eyes, “Well when someone wants to summon your _dead_ son you get a wee bit curious, don't you. So. What are you three up to now?”

Sam bit his tongue and allowed himself to sign under the table.

 _“Ooh,_ what’s _that_ I feel?” Rowena leered. She glided toward Sam, heels clicking on the cracked wooden floor. “Someone found themselves a nifty little curse, there?”

“Yes,” Sam answered simply.

 _“Och,_ poor boy,” she said with apparently genuine sympathy. She blinked, and it was gone. “Well then, since I know I’ll get nothing out of _them,_ how about I ask you again,” she placed her palms on the table and leaned in toward him. “What did you want with Fergus?”

Sam’s lip curled with his effort as he held her eyes, desperately hoping she couldn’t see him spelling out his answer with one hand under the table.

She smirked. Her wrist ficked up and Sam’s hands were bound to his sides. “One more time, dear,” her eyes darkened even as she gave him her best smile, “What do you want with my dead son?”

Sam bit his tongue, he clenched his jaw, he held his breath, but nothing was going to stop the necklace from accomplishing its task now.

“Rowena!” Dean called from across the barn.

Rowena turned to Dean, finding his gun drawn at her. Sam mouthed his answer under his breath while she wasn’t looking. He started backing away, trying to leave the barn.

“A gun?” Rowena asked flatly, “Dean, dear, you’re joking. _Méte!_ _"_

Sam’s feet stuck to the floor. She hadn’t even turned back around.

“Witch killing bullets,” Dean said.

“Cute.” She turned back to Sam—

Dean fired his gun and Cas leapt at her, blade raised high.

Her hands shot up in a blur.

The bullet and Cas froze in the air.

“Oh, I’m _sorry,”_ she said, letting the bullet drop to the floor and holding Cas aloft with a careless finger, “you still seem think you can handle me. I was right, that’s just adorable.” She turned to Cas and met his eyes, “I expected better from you, handsome.”

 _“Rowena,”_ Dean warned.

“Rowena, _what?_ ” she bobbed her head as she turned back to glare at him.

“Let them—”

“Oh wait _no,"_ Rowena’s free hand squeezed the air, “on second thought, I don’t wanna hear it.”

Dean's brow furrowed, then his eyes slowly widened. One hand left his gun to touch his own throat as he coughed, then sputtered, then weakly gasped.  

“Dean!” Sam shouted. Cas’s eyes darted desperately between Rowena and Dean.

She stepped toward him, her grin juxtaposed with the glower in her eyes.

“You convince my son to _die_ for you...” she said deliberately, evenly. “...you leave his _body_ in another _realm..._ ” She squeezed her fist harder and Dean strained another cough. His gun clattered to the floor. “...you don’t even _mourn_ him...” He fell to his knees, now scrabbling at his throat. “...and then you get an inkling from _somewhere_ that he might be alive, so you try to summon him!” She stood before him now, her petite body towering over him. “And you do this all without a single consideration for his own _mother?"_ She raised her clenched fist, ready for the final blow, “No. I think not. I’ve just about _had it_ with you, _Dean Winchester—”_

The candles on the spell table extinguished without wind. Dean fell forward to his hands, gasping in lungfuls of breath. A voice came from the shadowy corner of the barn, followed by the click of expensive shoes on dingy wooden floors.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear up and down that I wrote this before 13x19 and all I added after seeing that episode was the line where she calls Cas 'handsome'. XD


	4. Chapter 4

“Crowley?” said Sam.

“I had this _handled_ , Fergus.”

“You… you knew he was back?” gasped Dean.

“Well,  _she_ brought me back, so…” Crowley trailed off.

 _“Honestly,_ Fergus,” Rowena sighed.

“What? I know how this works,” he shrugged, keeping his hands in his pockets. “They’ll keep digging and digging until they find what they want and be a pain in my ass the entire time. Better to head it off now.”

“Your body is in another _dimension,"_ Dean grated through his strained voice.

“Yes, and thank you so much for the valiant effort you put up to retrieve it, by the way.” Crowley put a finger to his chin. “Oh wait, no, you left me there to _rot."_

The realization of the new extent of Rowena’s power dawned on Sam and Dean at the same time. Sam turned wide-eyed to Dean as Dean glared back at Sam.

“So what did you want, boys?” Crowley asked them all. “Or should I turn my attention to Moose?”

Sam grimaced. “We know about your spell farm and we want you to take us there,  _and—"_   he strained to stop the second answer from falling out, _“and— yes,_ if you want answers.”

Crowley ignored his blatant discomfort. “My spell farm? You mean the production facility here in bum-fuck Wisconsin?” he pointed a finger around vaguely. “What in hell do you want with that?”

“Yes, I guess so, and—” he fought his answer again, opting for a partial-truth, “there’s something we want there.”

 _“Mm-hmm."_ Crowley considered him. “And I suppose you don’t want me to know just what that 'something' is?”

Sam shook his head.

Crowley leered at him. “Mother’s right you know, you’re downright adorable, thinking I don’t already know. Don’t suppose you’d confirm it for me anyway?”

“No, of course not,” Sam’s face scrunched.

Crowley frowned. "I see." He took a step toward the spell table. “Well, considering that, and how _rudely_ I was treated when I helped you last time,  _why the HELL would I help you NOW?_ ”

Sam flinched, but he steeled himself and knocked his required answer sideways. “Well Dean's always been a huge romantic, so...”

Four sets of eyes darted to Dean.

Dean ticked back from them. He lifted his palms at Sam.  _What the fuck?_

Sam just shrugged.  _Sorry._

“Yes, well, I think we’re done here.” Crowley rubbed his hands together. “Do me the pleasure of never calling me again, yeah? Toodles.”

Crowley and Rowena vanished. Cas dropped to the floor and Sam’s limbs were released.

Dean jumped to his feet and immediately turned on Sam, “Yeah, Sam, giving Rowena that page from the Grimoire worked out great! So, are you still gonna take her down yourself or do you want our help with this one?”

“You gave Rowena a page from the Black Grimoire?” Cas asked.

“Yes,” Sam answered Cas, “and no, Dean, I’m not going to ‘take her down’! All she’s done is bring Crowley back!”

“All we _know about_ is that she’s brought Crowley back!” Dean strode over to the Sam at the spell table, “She had to reach across a dimension for his body!”

“Or she reconstructed it from scratch,” Cas suggested.

“That’s not better!” Dean rounded on Sam again, “She didn’t use a single hex bag, Sam! She’s off the charts!”

“That doesn’t mean she’s a problem!”

“So, what, you have a soft spot for Rowena now?”

“Yes!” 

Dean recoiled. “What?” 

“I said yes!”

“I heard you!”

“I have to answer you, Dean!”

“Fine,” Dean stepped up into his space, “Why do you have a soft spot for Rowena?”

Sam didn’t even bother biting his tongue. “Because I want her to take down Lucifer, damn it! Stop taking advantage of the necklace!” 

 _“You’re_ the idiot who put it on!”

“Only because you were too chicken to try it yourself!”

“Not chicken, Sam, smart!”

“Hey, fuck you!”

“Fuck _you!”_

“Sam! Dean!” Cas stepped between them.

 _“What?”_ they barked.

“Aw, don’t stop them, Feathers, it was just getting good,” Crowley said from his seat on the table.

“Shit!” Sam flinched at his sudden appearance.

“Oh stop, Moose, you flatter me.”

“What do you want, Crowley?” Dean demanded, shoulders still heaving.

“What do _I_ want? This is about what _you_ want. I swear, you have the memory of a goldfish.”

“Goldfish have relatively good memories for fish,” Cas noted.

Dean's eyes dropped shut. “Not really the time, Cas,” he sighed.

“I just told you not five minutes ago, I know how this game works. You keep digging like rabid little moles until you find what you want, annoying _me_ the entire time. Short of killing you, which I also know won’t work, it’s much easier to just give you whatever trinket you want and have you on your way.”

“And you needed Rowena gone for this?” Cas asked.

Crowley sat a bit straighter on the table. “Mother has been… difficult since my return. Although now I know I have this one to thank for that,” he jerked a thumb at Sam. “Honestly, thank you, I do enjoy not being dead, but did you have to give her quite so much power?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered. “I don’t know if there was another way.”

“I am _loving_ this whole honesty schtick, by the way, it suits you. I assume it wasn’t Mother’s doing?” His eyes dropped to the necklace. “Ah, I see not.”

“You know what this is?” Sam asked, hope bubbling despite himself.

“I do. But let’s deal with one favor at a time, shall we?” He hopped off the table. “Now I already know what you want. You found my selkies. And I’m sure it’s just tearing your little hearts to pieces knowing they’re locked up again. Although, really I should have seen this coming,” he side-eyed Sam, “since _someone_ can’t keep it in his trousers.”

Sam just glared at Crowley.

“What, you’re not even going to ask how I know that?”

“No,” Sam answered.

“I swear you take the fun out of everything, Samantha. No one? No one cares?” he spread his hands at the three of them.

They all bit their tongues now, not wanting Crowley to stop the roll he was on.

“Fine, you’re all a bunch of spoil-sports. Here’s where the facility is,” he whipped a business card out of thin air and handed it to Dean. “Try not to break anything and _please,”_ he looked to Sam, “just take the selkies. I swear there’s nothing else sentient in there, just get your girlfriend and go.”

“You can’t just let them go?” Dean asked.

“God no, it’s _much_ more fun this way.”

And he disappeared.

*Dick,* Dean grumbled as he pulled out his phone. He entered the coordinates on the card and groaned.

“What?” Sam asked.

Dean showed him the screen. The red pin sat on a bend in the river just south of Wheatland, WI. “We must have checked there a million times!”

“Five times,” Cas corrected him.

Dean dropped his head. “Thanks, Cas.”


	5. Chapter 5

Sam, Dean, and Cas returned to the motel room, and told Direl what he needed to know.

“We found out where the farm is,” Sam said. “It was hidden pretty well.”

“Well then what're we doin' sittin’ on our asses for? Let’s go get ‘em!” He leapt off the bed.

“Whoa, there,” Dean said as he held up a hand, “we're not gonna attack this place in the dark, they already know we’re coming. Let’s get some sleep and head there in the morning.”

“What?” “You’re kidding!” Sam and Direl both whirled at Dean.

“You know I’m right,” Dean said mostly to Sam.

“How the hell do you expect me to sleep when they’re out there and we know where they are?” Sam demanded of him.

“I don't know, but we’re not going into a place that knows we’re coming while it’s dark. I’m going to bed.” He moved past them toward his duffel.

“Dean!”

“Dammit, Sam,” Dean threw his bag on the bed, “go get the guns ready, or go buy more supplies, or something, I don't care what!”

Sam glared at him.

“What?” Dean barked.

Sam’s lip curled. “You sure sound like Dad right now,” he answered.

Dean gaped at him. Then his face slowly darkened. “You should go check the ammo, Sam,” he growled.

Sam’s arm twitched with a fist. His eyes flicked to Cas.

He’d just stop them anyway.

“Fine,” Sam spat, and he stormed out. Direl followed him, slamming the door behind him.

Dean let his eyes drop shut with a sigh, long and low. “Great.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just great."

He dropped his arm and gestured at the door, “Would you go with them, buddy?” he said to Cas, “I don’t want them going off on their own just ‘cause they’re pissy.”

Cas raised that eyebrow at him. “I don’t think you understand the full breadth of the situation.”

Dean squirmed under the scrutiny. *That’s rich, coming from you...*

Cas narrowed his eyes. The brow ticked higher. “Why?”

Dean took a step back from him, “Ah— no reason, forget I said anything.”

Cas continued to watch him, staring—  _analyzing—_ in that way that always threw Dean for just a bit of a loop. Then Cas gave the tiniest nod, and said, “Okay. I’ll go.” His eyes flicked down and back. “For you.”

He left with that awkward line hanging in the air to catch up with Sam and Direl. Dean heard Cas's car door close and the motor of the Impala turn over, and soon the rumble was fading into the night.

“For me...?” Dean shook his head and returned to his duffel. “What?”

 

———

 

Sam continued to fume as they left the motel.

His indignation must have been too much even for Direl, because Direl asked to be let out at the first bar they passed. “Don’t know nothin’ about guns anyhow, don’t need to keep me around fer this,” he said, and practically jumped out of the car.

“Direl—” Sam tried.

“Jus' come collect me when yer done. Only wanted to get away from that _eejit_ for a while, anyhows.” He slammed the car door and left.

Sam rolled his eyes to the roof.  _“Great.”_ He smacked the steering wheel. “Great.”

He shot out of the bar’s parking lot and pointed the car toward the nearest gun shop.

The silence that settled between Sam and Cas was uneasy. Yellow streetlights slowly washed over them, rising and fading as they passed through this tiny town. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Cas finally asked.

“No,” Sam answered.

Cas nodded. Then he turned to Sam again:

“Would you like me to use the necklace to make you talk about it so you could be absolved of responsibility for your answers?”

“What—? No!” 

"Alright.” 

They fell back into silence. Nothing but the whir of tires on pavement and the hum of the engine.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care!” Sam said of his own volition.

“Of course he cares.”

“Fucking shitty way of showing it.”

“He’s trying to give us the best chance of succeeding,” Cas countered.

“Sure,” Sam huffed.

Silence again. As they neared the edge of town, the street lights thinned until they were gone.

“Good talk,” Cas said sarcastically.

Sam sighed. “Sorry, man. It’s just—” He tried and failed to come up with a way to explain this strain of bullshit. “Look, um— it’s still a ways to the store. You wanna listen to the radio or something?”

Cas tipped his head as he considered that. “Well I have been wanting to listen to this,” he said as he dug in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. His hand emerged with a black cassette tape, and he handed it to Sam.

Sam glanced at the title. He did a double take.

“Dean gave you a mixtape?”

“Yes,” Cas said.

“A mixtape? A Zeppelin mixtape?”  _Holy shit, Bris and Direl might really be on to something._  

“Yes?” Cas repeated, an eyebrow now raised. “He made it for me. Is the label hard to read? It’s gotten a little worn in my coat—”

“No, I can read the label fine, Cas,” Sam answered. “It’s just— Wow. Um… Did Dean…explain this to you?”

“Explain it? No. He sort of just—” Cas made a motion with his hand “—threw it at me.”

“He just—? _Ugh.”_ God, Sam's brother was a dick.

“What?” Cas asked.

“Nothing,” Sam quickly lied while he signed, "Asshole," with his left hand. The contradiction made him dizzy. “So you haven’t listened to this yet?”

“My truck didn’t have a tape player. And Dean made it explicitly clear he didn’t want to listen to it with me.”

“Oh my _god,”_ Sam groaned. Dick. His brother was a complete dick and kind of an idiot.

“I’m sensing anger. Do you not want to listen to it with me either?”

Sam forced an uncomfortable laugh. “No, Cas, I don’t want to listen to the ‘Zepp TraXX’ that Dean put on a _mixtape_ for you.”

“Why not?” Cas winced, “Sorry, that was very broad.” 

“No it’s fine, Cas, I’ll just—” He took a breath and searched for a redirection. In that way the broad questions were actually easier. “I shouldn’t be the one to explain this, okay? You’re going to have to talk to Dean about it.” 

“You’re uncomfortable. Did you also intend to make me a tape?”

 _“God no!”_ Sam shouted, flinching so hard he jerked the wheel, “I’m your friend, Cas!”

“And Dean isn’t?” Cas squinted at him. 

Sam closed his eyes for as long as he dared while driving. “You need to talk to Dean.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Alright, we need some more hollow points, for sure,” Sam said over the counter to the clerk.

“You said you were hunters, the heck’re you huntin’ with .45 hollow points?” The clerk raised an eyebrow at them. It had been almost closing time when they entered and the clerk was slightly agitated.

Sam and the necklace jumped in before Cas could, _“We_ are _hunting…_ ” he strained for a good answer, “...things.” He nodded, tight lipped.

He could almost feel the necklace sigh at him. It was terribly disconcerting.

“...Things?”

“Things,” Sam confirmed. “Look, ah, my grandpa just sent me to get these, the old coot,” he laughed weakly. “I dunno why he wants ‘em, all he does is shoot at trees anyway.”

 _“Right,”_ the clerk said slowly, obviously not believing a word he said.

“So, um, the hollow points and—”

“And we’re running low on silver,” Cas chimed in.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and sighed at the ceiling.

 _“Silver?”_  The clerk looked between them.

“He’s just— Look, um, my brother here, you know, he’s not all—”

“Your _brother?_ He looks nothin’ like you!” For some reason this was going to be the straw to break the clerk’s back.

“Um, step-brother, look, could I just buy the bullets?” Sam spread his palms, pleading.

“We also broke the bolt cutters on your necklace,” Cas reminded him.

Sam’s hands dropped a fraction and he squeezed his eyes shut again. Without opening them he asked the clerk, “Do you sell bolt cutters?”

“If it’ll get you nutters out of my hair I’ll sell you the ones in the back.”

“Done.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

They picked up Direl from the bar about an hour before sunrise, the trunk now brimming with supplies. Fortunately, he’d had the sense not to get completely wasted—

“What a load a’ crap, the time o’ day, my arse!”

—but he was evidently more than tipsy.

“We’ll leave as soon as we get Dean up,” Sam tried to calm him.

 _“Ach,_  feckin’ Dean-o, lousy flah.”

Sam wasn’t sure just what he’d said, but it made Cas grind his teeth audibly.

“Hey, I knows!” Direl leaned up on the front seat, resting his chin on his arms, “Hows about you an’ me, Sammy-boy? Maybe _you’d_ like to partner up wit’ me an' fix this whole mess?” he jerked a thumb at Cas. Cas was resolutely staring straight ahead.

“Don’t call me that,” Sam said curtly. “And no, I wouldn’t.”

“Come _ooon_ , I knows you sees what I sees, boyo!” He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder—

Cas spun in his seat and caught Direl by the throat.

 _“He said,”_ he growled, _“no.”_

Direl swallowed. His adams apple caught on Cas’s palm. “Aye. Ten-four, mate” he squeaked.

Cas narrowed his eyes.

“He means he’s got it, Cas,” Sam clarified.

Cas released him. Direl collapsed back into his seat, unconsciously rubbing his throat and staring wide-eyed at the back of Cas’s head.

“Hey, while we’re at it, lay off Dean, will you?” Sam added, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “You’re freaking him out.”

“ _What?_ I’m only tryin’ to—”

Cas shot him a glare.

Direl retreated to the furthest corner of the back seat, “Aye. Layin’ off, boss.”

The rest of the ride was downright pleasant for Sam, grinning smugly into the rearview mirror every once in a while to catch Direl eyeing Cas concernedly.

When they pulled into the motel parking lot, Sam hopped out and jogged straight to the door. He turned back, his hand on the door handle, “Give me just a sec in here, guys, hang out here. You can handle Direl, right, Cas?”

Without Cas having to move a muscle, Direl cowered from him.

“Great. Just a minute.” Sam entered the motel room.

Dean glanced up from his bag where he was pulling out his clothes for the day. “Great timing, we can get some breakfast and head out—”

Sam grabbed Dean by the front of his t-shirt and yanked him around.

“Hey, what—?”

*Do you even  _know_ how shitty you can be?* Sam hissed in his face.

“What—? What the fuck, Sam, I just said we're gonna go—”

*You made _Cas_ a mixtape, a  _Zeppelin mixtape,_  and you didn’t think to explain it to him?*

“What—? Wait. Explain—?” Dean shook his head and dropped his voice in return, _*What?*_

*I asked Cas what he wanted to listen to in the car, and he pulled out a mixtape— from _you_ — that he hasn’t had the chance to listen to _because you won’t listen to it with him!_ *

*He hasn’t—? I gave him that a _year_ ag—* Dean snapped his mouth shut.

 _*A year ago?_  You absolute dick—!*

*Why are you even so pissed?* Dean cut in.

Sam reeled, he shook Dean with every syllable, _*You,_ gave _Cas, a-Zeppe-lin-mix-tape,_ and didn't even—!*

*Yeah, ‘cause—  _newsflash,_ Sam— I like Zeppelin!*

Sam drew back. *You—* He frowned. *You gave it because—*

*What the fuck did you _think_ , Sam?*

Sam stepped back, releasing Dean's shirt. “I thought—”

_Oh hell no, fuck you, necklace. _

He redirected the truth. “—Apparently nothing.”

He turned and left the room to go get Cas and Direl.

Dean waited until he was gone to run a hand over his face, “Fuck.” He dropped his head. “What? Fuck.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> optional song link, lyrics in end notes

The Impala once again flew down the back roads of Wisconsin. Sam had flipped on the radio, allowing [“ _Runnin’ Down a Dream_ ”](https://www.pandora.com/artist/tom-petty/full-moon-fever/runnin-down-a-dream/TRc6jf2tfX74pjc?part=ug&corr=17174596) to wash over them all and fill the empty spaces in the cab. The song put up a valiant effort to dislodge Dean's ear-worm, but poor Petty just couldn't compete.

A few of the words of this nameless song had finally come to Dean, something about being broken and lonely.

It was doing _wonders_ to lift his mood.

He turned down a little dirt road that they had definitely been down before. The wide expanse of empty farm fields stretched around them for miles.

“I can’t believe we didn’t notice any warding,” Dean griped.

“Crowley is crafty,” Cas said. “He’s probably learned to adapt his methods, considering all of his other buildings that we’ve broken into.”

“You know, sometimes I really hate when you’re right.”

“You always seem to hate when I’m right.”

As they bickered, Dean became aware that he was putting on the brakes. Something was making him stop.

He recognized it as the same gut feeling he’d had when they checked this place before, the feeling that they were wasting their time and there was nothing here.

“That _dick_ ," said Dean, "do you guys feel that?” 

“Yeah,” Sam answered. Cas and Direl nodded.

Dean's lip curled. “I _hate_ mind-tricks,” he growled, and floored the gas pedal. They peeled out and took off.

The feeling that he should turn around only intensified. Dean tried to shove it aside, but it came right back. The heel of his palm went to his throbbing temple as the other hand tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He was sure couldn’t do this, he _had_ to turn back, so he pressed into the pedal harder. The pain and dissonance intensified until he couldn’t take it anymore— He shouted, he cursed, he demanded relief from it, but it wouldn’t— he couldn't—

They broke through the other side of the barrier and a brick wall appeared in front of them.

“FUCK!” Dean slammed on the breaks and yanked the wheel. The car skidded on the dirt, tipped up on its side wheels for a harrowing moment, and fell back down to rest just inches from the wall with a grinding bounce.

“Oh my god— Oh god, I’m so sorry, Baby!” Dean looked around as if he were going to see the problem as he caressed the dashboard. “I’ll fix that when we get home, I promise.”

*Americans an' yer cars,* Direl mumbled.

Three heads whirled to glare at him.

 _“Jaysus,_ sorry,” he whipped up his palms.

When no one started firing rounds or running at them, they supposed their arrival hadn't been noticed and took the time to check their surroundings. Where the satellite maps showed nothing but empty fields, and from the road one saw nothing but a gentle descent to the river, there was now a bona-fide forest— or at least what passed for one in southern Wisconsin. All around them densely-packed trees were clogged with underbrush, shrubs that Cas happened to recognize as Honeysuckles from the informational sign he had read some days ago.

They couldn’t leave the car here, and moreover they couldn’t do much surveying from this position, so Dean sought cover in the trees— a good distance from the wall but still close to the road, just in case. He cringed at the way the brush slid against the sides of the Impala, and vowed again that Baby would get a full work-over when they got home.

The spot was up a slight hill, far enough away to be out of sight of anyone that might be up on the wall. Sam and Dean pulled out their binoculars and the four of them crept back to the treeline to inspect the farm from above. A white warehouse or barn of some sort blocked most of the view beyond the wall, but they could see a few green hills behind it.

“Yeah, those are new,” Direl said when Sam remarked on them. “This place was flat as a pancake a month ago.”

“Well how would you fix a place that flooded before?” Dean shot back at him.

Direl gave him a confused look.

“Looks like one gate,” Dean noted as he continued to scan the farm, paying no attention to Direl. “Wall’s about ten feet high, so we’re not about to jump it.”

Cas leaned over to Dean, “I could throw you over,” he offered.

“How would that be discreet, Cas?” Dean lowered his binoculars to roll his eyes. He paused and turned to him, “Wait, was that a joke?”

The corner of Cas’s mouth twitched up.

Dean smirked but gave him a discerning once-over, “Since when do you do jokes?”

"Um..."

“I can just barely see the river from here,” Sam said as he continued surveying. “Looks like the wall becomes a chainlink fence in the back. Easy enough to cut through.”

“Good thing we replaced the bolt cutters,” Cas said.

“What happened to yer bolt cutters?” Direl asked Cas.

“Nothing,” Dean snapped. “Alright. So we need to break into that gate, find where the selkies are being held, and get them to the river.”

“Grand! So what’s the plan?” Direl asked them all.

“That is the plan,” Sam answered.

“Oh,” Direl frowned.

Dean popped the trunk and began to arm them.

“Alright, they know we’re coming, but they don’t know when or how,” Dean said as he loaded multiple guns. He held up a pistol at Direl. “Ever used one of these?”

“No,” Direl said, “but I might be okay with that.” He pointed at an angel blade.

“Fine. We’ll all have one of these anyway. Kills demons. Regular knives don’t, so don’t bother.”

“But guns do?”

“No.”

“Then what are these for? And what the _hell’d_ you send us on that shit errand for?”

“Your trigger-happy asses decided you couldn’t sleep and this place is run by a witch. Stab the demons, shoot the witch. Now shut up, you’re the weak link here so you better listen good. We’re goin' in quiet and staying low, taking out as many as we can before they know where we are.”

“Got it.”

“I said shut up. Now we don’t have a lot of intel to go on. Bris only told us you were all kept in a caged pond. So you’re going to have to let us know if you recognize anything—”

“Oh, so now I can talk.”

“I swear to god I will knock you out right now and leave you in this trunk if you don’t get your shit together,” Dean stared him down. “This isn’t a joke, this is a rescue mission, and I will not bring you in there just to have you die from sheer ass-hatted-ness.”

Direl sputtered, “I— You—” 

“We wanna be in and out as fast as possible,” Dean continued without him. “It’s not gonna be easy to get forty-some people out, even just to the river.” He loaded the magazine of his pistol, grabbed the bolt cutters, and shut the trunk. “Alright, let’s go.”

But they only got a few yards away before Dean became aware of an absence. He patted his pockets, “Shit, left my phone in the car, I’ll be right back.”

The others continued through the treeline while Dean ran back. He checked the front bench but it wasn’t in the seat. He went to open the trunk—

“So you’re really gonna do this,” a voice said from behind him.

Dean spun around to find Crowley a short distance away, holding up his phone.

Dean ignored his question and held out his hand. Crowley tossed the phone over.

“Was that wall of mind-fuckery yours?” Dean asked.

“It is.”

“Well fuck you very much for that.”

“What? I thought it was clever,” Crowley smirked at him. “Had you in mind when I designed it, you know. Poetic, really.”

“I’m not even gonna pretend I understand how your twisted mind works.”

“You never did bother. But I will. You’re really gonna go in there for her?”

“For all of them, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, she’s _Samantha’s_ squeeze, not yours,” Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“She’s technically my ex-wife, so,” he shrugged. “Maybe it’s that.”

The eyebrow stayed. “You’ve really lowered your standards.”

“Why are you here?” Dean sighed.

Crowley sauntered over to the car. “Well, Dean... I didn’t exactly give you the whole truth last night.”

“I am shocked and appalled,” Dean said flatly.

Crowley turned and leaned against the trunk. “The truth is this place is no longer stocked with my brand of employee. It’s full of Asmodeus’s minions now.”

Dean clenched his fists, glaring at where Crowley was touching the car. “So this _is_ his farm?” he growled.

Crowley smirked. He patted the lid of the trunk. “You know, I actually missed this old phallus on wheels.”

“Crowley, is it his or not?”

He resignedly put his hand back in his pocket with a sigh. “This production facility—”

“Calling it that does _not_ make it better.”

Crowley scowled. “This _production facility_ was mine until a few days ago. Someone in Hell was actually doing their job for once and noticed that one of my double agents, while recollecting those afancs for me, never returned from the other task Asmodeus had assigned him.”

“Shit.” Smokey the Bear.

“Yes, well, that’s what you get for abducting people just doing their double-crossing jobs. But anyway. Asmodeus did a little digging and surprise, surprise, found my facility. He immediately wanted it restocked, of course. He’s always been a bit _obsessive_ with his collections.”  

“So you didn’t send that attack on the selkies?”

“And provoke the ire of Jolly Green? I wasn’t reborn yesterday.”

“And now you’re helping us because you want us to go in and take care of _your_ problem.”

“The more you kill, the happier I am,” Crowley answered with a wide smile. He reached into his coat and pulled out a knife. “Here. Kills demons. Just like Moose’s.”

“Thanks, but,” Dean pulled out an angel blade and wiggled it. “I’ve already got this.”

Crowley pressed is lips together. “Of course you do.” He narrowed his eyes at it, glaring as though willing it to burst into flames.

Actually, it _was_ getting hotter…

“Cut it out.” Dean stowed the blade in his belt.

“Fine. You’re armed. But let the record show that I tried.”

Crowley pushed off the trunk and turned away from Dean.

“Oh," he said, turning back a degree, "and the selkies are in the back, by the way.”

He vanished.

Dean just rolled his eyes. He was about to leave again when he noticed something.

There was a chocolate on the trunk.

“What the—?” Dean scrutinized the chocolate. It was… just a piece of candy. He tossed it behind him and jogged to catch up with everyone else.

When he reached them, he leaned over to Sam. “So Crowley just showed up.”

Sam whirled around, “He did?”

“He’s gone now,” Dean clarified. “Turns out they don’t actually know we’re coming. Asmodeus took over this place days ago, Crowley didn’t tip them off.”

_“What?"_

Cas and Direl stopped and turned back at Sam's outburst.

“Hey, I didn’t know!” Dean threw up his hands, “Crowley just showed up, gave me the info, and tried to give me another Demon Knife. Says he wants all the lackeys inside dead.”

“I can’t— He just—” Sam sputtered with rage.

“Who’s Crowley?” Direl demanded.

“The demon who runs this farm!” the necklace made Sam answer. He couldn’t even resist it right now.

“I thought he weren’t a friend?”

“He’s not!” Sam shouted. He rounded on Dean, “So we could have come last night!?”

“Yeah, Sam, I guess we could have, that might have even been better. But we didn’t know, okay?”

“ _You_ didn’t know—!”

“Sam,” Cas put his hand on his forearm, lowering the finger Sam was pointing in Dean’s face. “We didn’t know.”

“How can you—”

“Sam,” Cas locked his eyes, “Did you know that it would have been best to attack last night?”

The necklace pulled Sam’s tongue. “No.”

“Did Dean know?”

Sam grimaced. “No.”

Cas released Sam’s arm.

Sam shifted his weight and glared between Cas and Dean.

“Fine,” he snarled and stormed off for the gate.

Dean and Cas followed him with Direl in tow.

“Hey, thanks,” Dean said, nudging Cas.

“That,” Cas answered without looking at him, “I did not do for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Runnin' Down a Dream}
> 
>  
> 
> _It was a beautiful day, the sun beat down,_  
>  _I had the radio on, I was drivin',_  
>  _Trees went by, me and Del were singin', little Runaway,_  
>  _I was flyin',_
> 
>  
> 
> _Yeah runnin' down a dream,_  
>  _That never would come to me,_  
>  _Workin' on a mystery, goin' wherever it leads,_  
>  _Runnin' down a dream,_
> 
>  
> 
> _I felt so good, like anything was possible,_  
>  _I hit cruise control, and rubbed my eyes,_  
>  _The last three days, the rain was un-stoppable,_  
>  _It was always cold, no sunshine,_
> 
>  
> 
> _Yeah runnin' down a dream,_  
>  _That never woulda come to me,_  
>  _Workin' on a mystery, goin' wherever it leads,_  
>  _Runnin' down a dream,_
> 
>  
> 
> _I rolled on, as the sky grew dark,_  
>  _I put the pedal down, to make some time,_  
>  _There's something good, waitin' down this road,_  
>  _I'm pickin' up, whatever's mine,_
> 
>  
> 
> _I'm runnin' down a dream,_  
>  _That never woulda come to me,_  
>  _Workin' on a mystery, goin' wherever it leads,_  
>  _Runnin' down a dream,_  
>  _Yeah I'm runnin' down a dream,_  
>  _That never woulda come to me,_  
>  _Workin' on a mystery, goin' wherever it leads,_  
>  _I'm runnin' down a dream_
> 
>  
> 
>  


	7. Chapter 7

As they approached, they quickly confirmed that there were no guards on the wall. In fact, as Dean jimmied the lock on the gate, there didn’t seem to be any guards at all.

“Weird,” said Dean.

“Maybe they’re waitin' to jump us,” Direl suggested.

“Demons aren’t that smart,” Cas insisted.

“You keep sayin' that and you’re gonna start underestimating them,” Dean said.

“I think you’re overestimating them.”

Dean rolled his eyes. The lock popped open. “Yahtzee. Here we go.”

They drew their weapons and headed down a path that led to that large building at the front of the farm. Sam turned to Direl, “Would they be in there?”

“Better hope not,” he answered darkly.

Sam chose not to ask further.

“Crowley said they’re in the back,” Dean said. He peeked around the corner of the building. Still no guards.

“Oh, thanks for sharing,” Sam snapped from behind him.

Dean made a face without turning around. He motioned with a silent signal that they should move around the corner.

At the next corner, they were able see the rest of the farm. The turf-covered hills they had seen from the outside stretched in rows before them, each at least fifteen feet high and most topped with barred cages.

“Cas and I will take this column, you go with Direl to the next. Head straight for the back. Stay low and stay silent,” Dean instructed.

They separated and headed east between the hills.

Sam crouched and moved along the bottom of the first hill. He paused at the edge, still didn't find any one in their path, and turned back to give Direl the signal to move to the next hill.

*What?* Direl whispered.

Sam raised an eyebrow. The signal for ‘move ahead’ was pretty self-explanatory. *Let’s go,* he clarified.

At the next hill, they finally heard voices.

“...Look at these ridiculous things. What does the Prince even want them for anyway?”

“Maybe he thinks they’re cute.”

“Don't look cute to me.”

Sam turned back to Direl, about to remind him to stay quiet and low—

Direl was shaking uncontrollably, just barely keeping a grip on his angel blade.

—Great.

Sam gave the signals for Direl to stay put. He’d take care of the guards.

*What?* Direl whispered again.

Sam clenched his fist. *Stay here,* he whispered and left before Direl could argue.

The voices continued. Sam followed them to the top of the hill, his Demon Knife already drawn.

 _“What?”_ the second voice moaned, “They’re _so_ cute! _Too_ cute. Come on, look at how they stare at each other.”

Sam dropped to an army crawl as he neared the top. He peered over the edge. Two demons, presumably, were standing next to the cage over this pond, commenting on the forms inside it.

“If I was in charge,” the first demon argued, turning to the cage to look at the beasts inside, “first I’d separate these two.”

“But they’re the best thing about this place!” the second demon said, turning to look as well.

Sam jumped up and took his chance.

“I think they’re _ruining_ the place, really,” the first demon said just before Sam stabbed it in the back.

———

Cas and Dean moved quickly from hill to hill, becoming more and more antsy at the continued absence of guards. Smokey the Bear had said the place was low-security but this was ridiculous. They could only tell there was _anything_ in this farm from the ambient noises of the monsters at the tops of the hills.

Dean looked up at a hill. “If we had more time time I’d want to stock up on stuff for our own pantry,” he said to Cas.

Cas eyed him uneasily.

“What? That’s what this place is for right?”

“This place is deplorable.”

“I dunno, maybe they're better locked in here than out there hurting people.”

Cas frowned, but didn't answer that.

Dean just shrugged and went to move to the next hill—

—Cas shot forward and grabbed his arm. Dean froze.

Footsteps were approaching, muffled in the grass.

Cas stepped forward. Dean reached out, “Hey, wait—”

A woman reached their gap and Cas leapt out at her.

“Not a demon!” Cas shouted to Dean. He swiped at her but she dodged unnaturally quickly.

She dropped a hex bag, _“Manete!"_

Dean was stuck to the ground. Cas leapt again.

With a complicated wave of her hand the witch teleported behind Cas and he landed in the empty grass. She took off running.

“Goddamn it, I _hate_ this fucking spell!” Dean tugged his foot. “Dammit! Cas!”

“I’m sorry—”

“No, no, the hex bag, Cas!”

Cas raised a hand at the hex bag and it burst into flames. They took off after the witch.

A commotion a hill or two over caught Dean’s attention.

The witch caught it, too. She abruptly cut down a row toward it.

They burst from between the hills just as Sam tumbled down a hill, grappling a man. Sam landed on top of him, stabbed him through the heart, and the body crackled and stilled.

The witch aimed one hand at Sam while her other reached into her pocket—

Cas sprinted at top speed. He caught the witch around the middle mid-spell.

A gust of air ruffled Sam’s hair, he looked up to see Cas landing on the witch and Dean catching up from behind.

“Go!” Dean ordered, running to help Cas.

Sam leapt up and ran toward the back.

Just as Dean was about to reach Cas and the witch, the witch teleported again, much closer to Direl's hiding place now. His eyes went wide with recognition.

 _"You!_ ” he snarled. He set his shoulders and ran right at her. He reached for his flask of holy water, raised his blade above his head, and—

Dean snatched him by the arm. He spun him around and threw him after Sam. “You idiot, go help Sam!”

Direl stumbled, glanced back once, and ran after him toward the back of the farm.

Dean circled back to Cas’s side as Cas stood again. They squared off and faced the witch.

———

Sam sprinted past hill after hill. This place was enormous, impossibly larger than it had seemed from a distance. He reached the last row and scrambled up a hill to a caged pond. It was empty. He shielded his eyes from the midday sun and looked out. Only a few of the ponds were caged back here, they must be in one of these—

“There!” a voice called out from one of the valleys.

Shit.

He ran down the hill and back up another. Just as he reached the bars a scaly, clawed hand shot out and took a swipe at him.

“Shit!”

“Over there!” another voice called out.

———

Direl hadn’t seen where Sam had gone. Couldn’t see anything past these pox hills.

Well, their surprise was blown anyways, Direl reasoned, might as well try something else.

“Bris!” he shouted from the top of a hill, “Ballo! Inas! Anyone!”

“There!” a voice called out from one of the valleys.

Shite.

“Direl?” he heard in the distance.

“Fierce!” Direl exclaimed, and he took off toward the voice.

———

Sam ran down that hill and up another to... another empty pond. He was never going to find them in time—

“Sam the Hunter!” a familiar voice called from the next hill.

Thighs burning from all the climbing, Sam followed it and crested one last hill. Direl was already there, desperately trying to hug his family through the bars.

Sam scanned the inside for Bris. Most of the cage was water, and thus most of the selkies were currently in their seal skins. Only a few were squeezed against the bars where there was enough room to stand as a human.

Sam recognized Ballo clinging to the bars further down, calling out to him, “Sam the Hunter!”

Sam went to him. “Where’s the door?” he asked. The bars were going to be too thick for the bolt cutters Dean was carrying.

“There,” Ballo pointed down to the end of the cage.

Whipping out his lockpicking kit, Sam ran to it and set to work.

———

Cas and Dean were running across the lawn again.

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” the witch panted.

“There!” one of the demon guards called in the distance.

The witch looked in the direction of the voice. She glanced back and saw Cas and Dean gaining on her again.  _“Ugh,_ fuck this!”

With a quick incantation she vanished.

Cas stopped, whirling around to see where she’d gone. Dean barreled on, writing her off as a lost cause. “Come on, Cas!”

———

“Fuck!” Sam spat.

This lock was impossible. There must be a spell on it or something.

“Look out!” a selkie shrieked from the cage.

Sam spun around. A demon was running up the hill at him. He pulled out his Knife and stood to face him.

“Not today, ya bastard!”

Direl ran out, flask in hand, and threw his holy water in its face. As the demon screamed and clawed through the steam Direl leapt on it, wrestling it to the ground. The demon swiped at him with the knife in its hand but Direl dodged it, snatched its wrist, pinned it to the ground, and plunged his angel blade through its heart.

Sam stared. “Whoa.”

“Direl, behind you!” another selkie shrieked.

Sam and Direl looked up to see another demon running at him. Direl didn’t have time to get up—

A blade flew through the air and landed in its ribcage.

Cas skidded on the grass and pulled his blade from the demon’s body. He looked up to face the others that were close behind it.

“Cas!” Sam shouted. “Cas, quick, up here!”

Cas looked worriedly between Sam and the approaching demons, but dashed up the hill. Direl followed, guarding his back.

“Cas, the lock…”

Cas looked at the lock, the door, and the cage.

“Cas, can you open this lock or not?” Sam begged.

Cas stepped three feet to the side, grabbed two bars, and ripped them clean off.

The selkies stared at him in awe.

Sam whooped. He ran forward to start guiding the selkies out. They immediately crowded the end of the cage, jockeying for a place on land to take their coats off. Ballo did his best to keep them calm, speaking to them in a language Sam couldn’t even begin recognize.

They heard Dean grunt behind them. Cas whirled. Dean had caught up and was now fighting the other demon guards on the hill. One had clocked him in the jaw and he was reeling back. Cas lifted the bars still in his hands and launched them at the demons.

They pierced one’s chest and another’s head. Direl leapt at them to deliver the finishing blows.

“Go to the fence, get to the river,” Sam was instructing the selkies. He turned from them and shouted, “Dean, the bolt cutters!”

Dean shook himself from the nasty hit he had taken and glanced up at Sam. He seemed to register what he’d said, reached into his jacket for the bolt cutters he had somehow tucked in there, threw them as Sam ran past him.

Sam caught them and barreled on toward the fence. He took another look to make sure the selkies were making it out alright, scanning the crowd for Bris, but there were just too many people.

He reached the fence and dropped to his knees, immediately setting to work cutting a hole in the chain link—

Except they wouldn’t cut.

“Shit!” Sam tried harder, but the cutters didn’t even dent the wire. “Fucking _witches_ and _demons_ and _shit!_ ”

Dean spun from the demon he’d just stabbed toward Sam’s shouts. He grabbed for Cas, who was about to charge forward into the last demons, “Hey, go help Sam!”

Cas looked between the demons and Sam at the fence.

“Cas!” Dean charged into the fray. Direl wasn’t far behind with a ridiculous battle cry.

With a concerned look over his shoulder, Cas ran to the fence.

“Sam, move!” he shouted, raising a hand.

Sam looked back, saw Cas coming, and scrambled out of the way.

An entire section of the fence began to glow red-hot. Cas stopped a few feet from it. The intense glow moved into yellow, then white, then the metal didn’t so much melt away as burn off.

“Alright, go, go, go!” Sam shouted, pushing selkies toward the hole in the fence still radiating heat.

He _still_ couldn’t find Bris in the crowd.

Dean and Direl backed up to where Sam and Cas were standing. A cut on Dean’s cheek was bleeding now. “Guys!”

The witch was approaching with a new crowd of demons in tow.

Someone grabbed Sam’s arm.

Sam spun to find Ballo, deep concern in his eyes.

“We still need to find Bris,” he said.

Sam’s heart dropped, “Find her?”

“The barn!” Ballo shook his arm insistently.

“What?” Sam looked back to the front of the farm.

“They took her this mornin', she’s there in that barn!”

“What? Why?”

Ballo locked eyes with Sam. “This is a _farm,_ boy.”

Sam’s blood ran cold. He took off.

The witch saw him and peeled off from the demons.

“Sam!” Dean shouted after him. He turned back, “Cas—”

“Dean,” Cas stared down the approaching demons.

“Cas, please.”

Cas looked between Dean, the demons, and the last selkies slipping through the fence.

His face hardened and he turned his piercing eyes on Dean, “Dean, go with them, don’t stay.”

“Yeah, Cas—”

“Dean,” Cas cut him off, “don’t stay to fight Crowley’s demons.”

"What? I won’t, Cas, alright? Help Sam!”

With a final stare Cas took off after Sam.

———

Sam ran as fast as his legs would carry him. His chest burned. He didn’t care.

_This morning._

If they had come last night—

It was only this morning, just a few hours at most. He might still make it before— before—

Still sprinting, the building loomed above him, mocking him with white stucco in the bright sunlight.

He slammed into the door, trying the handle. Locked. He backed up to kick it in. He kicked it again. Again.

He drew his gun and shot the door handle off. He slammed into it once more and it burst open.

Cages lined the hallway. Like a horse stable—

_No, like a pig farm._

Gun still drawn, he ran down the center, looking inside each stall. Monsters of all kinds stared back at him. Some lunged at the bars. Most shrank back into their dark corners.

He reached the end of the building. She wasn’t here.

Wait, he had passed a staircase.

He ran back to the middle of the barn. Alright, up or down?

Where would they—?

Down to the basement. He leapt down each half-case of stairs in a single bound and burst through another door at the bottom.

It was dark but Sam could see the room was filled. Packed full with machines and gadgets, chairs and tables, straps and chains. It was a nightmare just to look around. But he had to look. File cabinets lined the walls. The room was clinically clean except for the floor— and the _ceiling_ — stained with— 

Wait, there. Another door led deeper into the basement.

Through that door he found another long room full of cages. Also dark. There were more stains on the floor. He tried not to inspect them too closely as he moved through the room. 

Please. _Please_ , she had to be here.

He reached the other end without seeing her.

His eyes burned, he grabbed at his hair. “No—” he choked.

Something shuffled.

Sam snapped to the sound. He followed it back to a cage near the front.

A seal looked back at him.

“Bris?”

She carefully slipped off her coat, hesitantly, as if she expected to need to replace it quickly.

“...Sam?”

“Oh god, Bris,” Sam collapsed against the bars.

She reached out to his face, slowly, trembling. Her motion was agonizingly restrained, ready to snatch her hand back in a blink. As if everything else hadn’t already crushed it, this alone bloke Sam’s heart.

*Sam, what’re you doin’ here?* she whispered.

“Saving you,” he answered, gladly allowing the necklace to move his tongue.

“But—” she frowned. “An’ my family?”

“Already out,” he answered. He placed his hand over hers on his cheek. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know— Bris, I would have come here first if I—”

 _"Shh,_ Sam," her lips twitched with a smile, "it's alright, Sam, it's alright."

Sam blinked at rising burn behind his eyes, grasping her hand tightly. Shoving that down, he set his face with determination, and still holding her hand through the bars, he stepped back and surveyed the door. “Alright. When they put you in, did they say anything? Cast any spells?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he released her hand and lifted his gun to the lock. “Cover your ears.”

“What—?”

“I’m shooting off the lock.”

“What? Wait! Can’t you just unlock it? Work at it?”

“I could,” he answered, “but we don’t have time.” He met her eyes. “Now cover your ears, Bris.”

Her hands flew up. He shot the lock. She screamed reflexively.

Sam wrenched the ruined door open and took her hand, “Come on!”

———

The new crew of demons was running toward him. Dean drew his gun and shot as many as he could, knowing it wouldn’t stop them, but needing to slow them down. He turned to check on the selkies. They were almost all out through the hole and were sprinting the final distance between the fence and the river. Some were already slipping into the water. He turned back, and— Oh boy, there sure were a lot of demons.

Shit, he could really use some backup right now.

Someone stepped up next to him. Dean turned to see Ballo.

“Can we take ‘em all?” Ballo asked him, staring down the demons.

“I don’t think so.”

Ballo lifted the angel blade Dean had previously given Direl, “Then we take as many as we can.”

———

As they made their way back, Sam checked around every corner, cleared every room with his gun held high before moving through with Bris. Now they were back on the first floor, and still they hadn't run into anyone. Sam took Bris’s hand again and pulled her to the exit. They burst out the front door—

“Shit!”

—and ran right into Cas.

“Come on, I’ve got Bris, let’s go!”

“Was there anyone else?” Cas asked, looking back at the building.

Sam’s stomach dropped, he hadn’t even thought to check. “I don’t—”

“No,” Bris answered, “just me.”

They took off across the grass, sprinting for the fence. Hopefully Dean was handling the guards alright—

“Stop!”

The witch ran at them from down a row of hills.

“Shit,” said Sam. They ran faster.

“Dammit, _stop!_ ” the witch repeated, exasperated. She threw up a hand and the three of them went flying, landing heavily against a hill. The witch dropped a fist down and held it. They were all pinned to the ground.

“What even is this?” the witch stepped forward, out of breath and clearly annoyed. She was holding a spellbook that she hadn't had before. “I mean, what are you doing here? What do you even _want_ with some raggedy-ass selkies?”

So many questions sent the necklace into overdrive, there was no stopping Sam’s tongue, “A rescue mission, we’re saving them, because I—” he bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood. That full truth would only put Bris in danger. “—because I care about them. _All_ of them,” he emphasized.

“Oh?” the witch looked at Sam. She stepped toward him. “That's _quite_ an interesting curse on you, boy.” Her fist unclenched just slightly.

Sam took the opportunity, raised his arm against her spell, and shot at her. She stumbled backwards, from being hit or from the crack of gunfire, they didn't know. They just leapt up and ran, not waiting to see what happened.

“A— a curse?” Bris asked through sharp breaths.

“Yes,” Sam had to answer. “Later!”

Somehow they made it to the last row of hills. The demons were swarming the hole in the fence. Dean and someone else, maybe Ballo, were just barely holding them off. The selkies seemed to all be gone. Everyone was out but them and the three of them were almost there—

“Would you stop _running away!_ ” the witch screamed from behind them. Her spell crashed over the three of them, knocking them to the ground. Sam tried to get up, but his head was filled with air and he couldn’t tell which way was up.

The demons noticed their boss had returned. Most of them turned to the newly arrived intruders to attack them instead.

Cas recovered fastest. He jumped up from flat on his back and whirled to compare the oncoming demons with the witch. Decision made, he wheeled and stabbed one demon only to pivot and smite another.

“Look at that cage— Look at that hole! You little shits, this is my life's work!” the witch screamed, she fired another spell at Sam and Bris. Whatever it was made him intensely nauseated. Sam clutched his stomach and groped for Bris.

“I _won't_ let you _ruin_ it!” Another spell roiled through him. His bones flared in agony. Come on, come on, Bris was just here—

“You’ll _pay_ for this!” Another spell hit him. Sam’s mind screamed as knives ran through it.

“I’ll get them back!” Sam felt the static of her next spell charging across his already burning skin.

"I'll get them all back!"

He blacked out before it could hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, Sam, you and consciousness just do not have a healthy relationship. At least it wasn't another freaking blow to the head, it's just... magically-induced excruciating pain. Yes, because that's better... I'm so sorry.


	8. Chapter 8

Cas spun back at a cry of pain behind him. Sam had collapsed and Bris was struggling to reach him. The witch was reeling back for another spell—

Cas threw his blade and it landed in her stomach. With a shriek of pain she fell to the ground.

He ran up, ripped his blade back from her abdomen, and grabbed Sam and Bris under each arm. Hoisting them up, he barreled straight through the last of the demons to reach the fence.

“Dean!” he shouted as he neared their exit.

Dean saw him and broke off from the fight, “Ballo!”

The three of them ran for the water, but stopped at the shoreline. Cas searched the water. The selkie could get away, but Sam and Bris were in no condition to swim, and there was no boat on the shoreline, and even if they could swim quickly enough, the demons could simply follow them in and—

Cas flipped between the demons pursuing them and the river.

It was truly unorthodox, but—

He dropped Sam and Bris at the water’s edge, falling to his knees on the bank and reaching his hand into the water.

 _“Exorcizo te, creatura aquae, in nominee…"_ he recited as fast as he could.

“Cas?” Dean shouted, holding his gun and his blade out at the demons.

_“ ...Non illic resideat spiritus pestilens…”_

“Cas!”

“ _...sit impugnationibus defensa! Per Dominum! Amen!”_

A blue light flashed through the water. It spread like a ripple, but flew as fast as a shockwave across the surface.

Cas grabbed Sam, “Take Bris!” he directed Dean.

“Cas what—”

 _“Get in!"_  he bellowed. He hauled Sam up, stepped up to the edge, and with the slightest hesitation, he leapt into the river. 

Dean grabbed Bris’s wrist and pulled her roughly to her feet. He took her around the middle and jumped in after Cas, Ballo right behind them with a flick of his coat.

Keeping Sam’s head above water against his shoulder, Cas swam out as far as he could. He looked back to see Dean struggling with Bris. She was awake but couldn’t help him much. Ballo darted all around them.

The demons finally reached the edge of the water. An ambitious one went to wade in, jumping down the sharp bank. It screamed in agony, steam rising from its legs as it clamored back onto the shore. Its companions could only look on as the group swam further and further out in the water.

They fled downriver, allowing the current to aid their escape, and soon the farm was out of view. Ballo helped where he could, trying to support Bris from bellow to ease Dean’s efforts.

But even with Ballo’s assistance, Dean eventually had to say through strained breath, “Cas… I gotta stop… I gotta get to shore...”

Cas searched the shoreline for a suitable place to haul out, but he found no cover to speak of, just an errant shrub here and there. With no other options, he led them to an inlet, a place where the farm fields dipped together and drained into the water. They found the river shallow here, filled in with soil eroding off that empty land. Not that it made their efforts any easier. They waded through the thick, stinking, black muck as high as their knees, struggling just to reach the same bank of the river they had left from.

Cas made it out with Sam, and laid him out in the narrow strip of dense grass clogging the shoreline. He turned back to find Dean struggling with Bris, barely able to lift his feet from the suction of the mud. Ballo emerged, quickly removing his coat and stumbling to Dean's side to take Bris himself. Cas hurried back to Dean, taking most of his weight upon himself to finally get them to shore.

As soon as they reached the grass, Dean collapsed to the ground and rolled onto his back.

He raised a shaking, muck-covered hand, pointing back at the water. “What…" he panted, "What the fuck was that?” 

“I blessed the river,” Cas explained curtly.

“You what?” Dean craned his head in Cas’s general direction. “You… you made an _entire river_ … of holy water?”

“Yes, Dean, I just said that.”

“...Damn, dude.” Dean dropped his head again, still trying to catch his breath. He was starting to shiver.

Ballo stood from laying Bris down, bracing himself on his knees to catch his own breath. He looked between the river, Dean on the ground, and Cas standing tall before him.

“What _are_ you?” he asked, incredulous.

Cas was glad he wasn’t the one with a cursed necklace.

He chose to disregard Ballo’s question, not knowing yet if it was wise to inform him of his true nature, and knelt beside Bris who was pushing herself upright now. She was also starting to shiver. “Are you alright?” he asked as he raised his fingers to touch her forehead. She flinched from it, and Cas recognized anger crossing her face, though it didn't seem to be directed at him.

She tried to relax, but didn't seem to have much success. “I dunno, mate," she answered him, "I'm definitely in a bad way, that's fer sure.”

“I can help you with that,” Cas raised his fingers again.

Bris glanced at Sam and back to Cas. “Right.” 

With a tap, Cas was able to dry her off and quickly remove the effects of the witch’s many spells, though would have to admit the nausea was quite a challenge— a combination of stomach flu and nerve overstimulation. 

“Wow,” Bris blinked a few times, “guess Sam weren’t lyin'.”

Cas tilted his head. So _Sam_ had told Bris.

He moved on to Sam, still unconscious. He placed his hand over his forehead and found his injuries were far more severe than Bris's. It was obvious the witch had been targeting him. Cas did what he could, time would have to heal the rest.

Sam stirred. He immediately tried to sit up. Cas almost smiled at his determination, and put a hand on his chest to slow him.

Sam flailed against the hold, taking a reflexive swing at Cas. Cas jerked his hand away and no longer fought a grin.

Sam scrambled up and whipped around, trying to gather himself. His eyes landed on Cas. “Cas? Where's Bris? What happened, where are we?”

“Sam?”

He spun toward her voice, "Bris!" and stumblingly rushed to his feet to go to her.

Ballo watched this all with obvious trepidation. His concern drew Cas’s attention.

When he faced Ballo, the selkie flinched, and gripped the angel blade still clutched in his fist tigher.

Ballo glared between Bris and Sam.

“You’re one o’ them _angels_  ain't you?” he growled, lowering his stance, "One o’ them damned cupid cunts.”

Cas frowned at him. "I'm  _certainly_ nota C—"

"Whoa-whoa-whoa, hey, man," Dean was up in an instant, placing himself between Cas and Ballo. Cas raised an eyebrow at how quickly Dean had recovered from his exhaustion.  “Relax, okay? He's not a Cupid.”

“Then what in the hell is he?” Ballo jabbed the blade in Cas’s direction.

“He's some other kinda angel, Ballo,” Bris said impatiently.

"Other kind?"

Cas looked to Bris again. So Sam had even discussed what kind of angel he was with her. He could only conclude that Sam trusted her immensely.

With her revelation though, Cas found there was no point in concealing it anymore. That would only delay them further, and they needed to ensure their escape was successful. So Cas turned back to Ballo and informed him, “I'm a Seraph, an Angel of the Lord.”

Ballo readied to pounce.

“Damn it, Ballo!” Bris stood to confront him. “We was just run down by _actual_   _demons_ an’ you're gonna question an _angel_ what just saved our sorry asses?”

Ballo's eyes flicked between her and Cas. He didn't stand down.

Perhaps a gesture of trust would calm him, Cas reasoned, and if not, he wouldn't be all that hard to take down. “See that blade in your hand?”

Ballo glanced at it and back to Cas.

“If I should make a move to harm you, that will kill me. Keep it for now.”

Dean whipped around, wide-eyed and incredulous.

With Dean's honest reaction, Ballo finally seemed to relax. Though he blade did stay in his hand. With a final uneasy look at Cas, he looked around at the wide, empty field. “We needs to move," he said, "They might be followin' us.”

“We need to get the car,” Dean countered.

Ballo’s eyes flicked to him. “We need to find my family,” he said sternly.

Cas noted a tiny tremor in Dean's posture. “And to do that, we need to get to the car,” Dean said.

“Alright, boy, where’d you leave it then? Back _there?”_

“Well I didn’t exactly think we’d have to make an exit via Holy River!”

“Then what  _did_ you think?”

“Honestly, Ballo!” Bris jabbed a finger at him. “Shut yer yap and listen to someone else for once!”

Everyone stared between Bris and Ballo.

She fell back a step, “I— I'm sorry—”

“No,” Ballo held up a hand, and his shoulders relaxed, “no, you're right.” He dropped his eyes to the ground, “Lord, sometimes you sound just like Inas, you know that?” he smiled at her.

Bris cautiously smiled back.

Ballo turned back to Dean with an exhale, “Alright, son, s'pose this _is_ your rescue mission.”

Dean drew himself up a little taller and looked Ballo right in the eye.

“We’ll get the car and head south along the river to meet up with everyone. Then we need to figure out where to go that the demons can’t get you again.”

Sam stepped in, “But— hey— if you don’t want to go back, we get it. You could continue downriver.”

Ballo eyed Sam. “No, think I’ll come with.”

Bris rolled her eyes.

A noise in the water alerted them all. They spun, weapons raised, to see Direl clamoring to shore.

“Oh thank _God_ you're alright!” he staggered forward from the muck, tripping a little in the long grass, “Somethin’ happened to the water an’ I thought— Lord, I thought that—” He made it to Bris first and pulled her into a hug. 

“Where is everyone?” Ballo asked.

“Inas has them," Direl stepped back to face Ballo, "they're headed downriver as fast as they can.”

“And they’re safe?”

“Aye, for now, yeah. I made sure a' that, I just— You told me what to go with ‘em, but I had to come back, I had to make sure you were all—”

Ballo cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “Direl… I'm proud a' you.” He pulled him in, “I’m so proud a' what you done today. _Go raibh maith agat,_   _mo mhac_.”

Surprise crossed Direl’s face before he returned the embrace. He said something, but only Ballo could hear him. Ballo just nodded and smiled, “I know, I know...”

“Well then, _cuí!"_ Ballo said, stepping back from Direl with a quick clap on the shoulder. "Let’s go, yeah?” He turned sharply and headed up the river.

As the others started to move along as well, Cas leaned over to Direl.

“How did you find us?” he asked him. If _Direl_ managed to find them, so could the demons.

“The three a’ you are like damned beacons, boyo,” Direl responded, pointing at Cas's chest. “Tried to call ya first but none a' yer numbers picked up. Had me right terrified, ye did.”

Cas made a mental note to dry their phones when they got to the car.

They started walking north. Almost immediately, the cold mud of the farm fields caked onto their shoes, turning them into weighted bricks and making the walk that much more difficult. Already exhausted, it took them hours to even see the edge of the woods around the farm again. It did nothing to aid Cas's sour mood. He found himself cursing his damaged wings, cursing himself. Not that long ago he could have taken them to the car in an instant, could have accomplished this whole mission alone, but here he was, trudging through the sodden soil, only able to watch while everyone else suffered.  

They finally reached the dense brush of the degraded woodland surrounding the farm. After the muck, the solid ground was truly a blessing.

For about ten minutes.

“God _—_ _fuck_ this shit,” Dean grumbled. 

Cas didn’t answer Dean. He just pushed ahead. 

A sprawling rosebush caught Dean's pants. _"Ah—!_ Ow! _Fuck!"_

Cas continued on.

He wasn’t paying enough attention when the next branch left his hand, and it whipped Dean across the face.

 _“Agh!_ Hey! What the hell, Cas!?”

Cas grimaced and pushed through another shrub. “Sorry,” he answered, not trusting himself with more than that.

Dean apparently picked up on it, though. 

“Hey, what’s with you?”

Cas sighed and shut his eyes. How did Dean always notice?

“I just let the branch go too soon—” he tried.

“No, man,” Dean said as he rubbed his welting face, “you know what I mean, what’s wrong?”

Cas stopped and waited for Dean to catch up. He searched for the best phrasing.

“You didn’t leave,” he finally answered.

“What?”

Cas rolled his eyes. Sure, _now_ Dean didn’t catch subtlety. “You said you would leave with the selkies. You stayed. You were still fighting those demons.”

“I was giving them time to escape!” Dean spread his arms indignantly.

“They were gone, Dean.”

“I was fighting with Ballo, I couldn’t ditch him—”

“You said you wouldn’t stay to fight Crowley’s demons.”

“They were Asmodeus’s demons—”

“But Crowley wanted you to kill them.”

Dean recoiled. “What, you think I was staying to kill more demons _for Crowley?_ ”

 _Well if the shoe fits,_ Cas thought, but didn’t say. He was fairly certain that was the right phrase, but not sure enough to try it out loud.

Dean seemed to hear his answer anyway. “Why would you even think that? _How_ could you even think that?”

Cas still didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer that. Not out loud and certainly not concisely. He turned away to continue through the brush.

“Cas,” Dean grabbed his arm. He met his eyes, silently demanding an answer.

That look shouldn’t work, Cas was stronger than that, and yet, it always seemed to work these days. Cas searched for the right words, “Crowley has been… unusually kind lately. I just thought...” he trailed off, unsure how to answer without answering.

“You thought I was trying to return the favor. For Crowley,” Dean said flatly.

Cas squirmed. When Dean wanted to, he could get right to the heart of a problem. “It certainly seemed that way.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn't.” Dean released his grasp on Cas, tapping the back of his hand against his arm. “Come on.”

Cas followed Dean. Not that he felt any better than before.

———

Direl and Bris were whispering as they followed Cas and Dean.

*Can’t help but notice you’re leaving your fella behind,* Direl said.

*He ain't my fella, Direl.*

*Sure, no,* he held a branch up for her to pass under, *the man just searched the countryside fer a week and fought through a mess a’ demons for ye but yeah, sure, no.*

*Really, no,* Bris scowled at him. "He came back fer all of us, just like I knew he would, that's why I gave you his numbers."

 _*Mm-hmm._ So if I go back an' ask he ain't gonna have yer coat, there?*

*No! I mean _—_ he did ask, but I certainly didn't go an'  _give_ _—"_

*So he  _did_ ask fer yer coat! I knew it! When? Just now? Oh, wait, you're not gonna tell me he asked after just that one night?*

*Thought it only ever took you one night, Direl,* she mocked.

*Well sure, but that’s different!*

*Just ‘cause you never give your coat to your mots— _Men,_ I swear.*

*But that is huge, right?* Direl gaped. *That’s gotta be huge! My stars, he went an' fell fer you right hard, didn't he?*

*It ain’t like that,* Bris insisted. *He's a sharp one, he knows how this goes for us. What we do with them— it ain't like what Ballo and Inas have.*

*Just ‘cause it ain’t ‘tween two selkies don’t mean it ain’t love just the same.*

She raised an eyebrow at him as they skirted a rosebush. *Oi now, when did you get so deep, Direl?*

*Oh, right abouts when I started watchin’ how that boy looks at you.*

Her sleeve caught on the bush anyway. *You’re _wrong,_ Direl, it's not like that,* she said as she tried to free herself from its sharp thorns.

*Oh, aye, sure thing, lass,* Direl smiled as he gently removed the branch for her.

———

As he followed the group through the brush, Sam tried to keep himself focused. He needed to be keeping an eye out for any demons that might sneak up through the woods, but he was distracted and he knew it. All he could focus on was that Bris was _here._ And she was _okay._ Well— she wasn’t hurt, at least. Well— she was, but…

Bris stopped ahead of him, letting Direl continue on to join up with Ballo and waiting for Sam to catch up to her.

She didn’t say anything as they began to move through the woods together.

Something was off. All Sam wanted was to take her hand, to really _know_ she was here, but she was staying just a few feet away. Sam wanted to blame it on the brush they were climbing through, but it seemed more deliberate than that. 

“So. You're cursed,” she tossed out. "Don't remember that comin' up befores."

Sam puffed a small laugh, is that all that was happening here?

“Yeah, it's a recent thing,” he said turning a bit and pointing at the necklace.

Bris didn’t seem to understand. “So what's wrong with you?” she asked, looking him up and down.

He chuffed at that. _Wh_ _at wasn't wrong with him?_ he wanted to say. “It's just this necklace,” he said instead, pointing at it again, “I have to tell the truth. I mean— well— it's more complicated than that, but that's the Cliff notes version.” Sam leaned over a bit, trying to close the distance between them.

Bris stayed just out of reach, “S'pose I can assume you’re not daft enough ye haven’t tried takin' it off, yeah?”

“Broke half our tools and nearly lost an ear,” Sam cracked, tugging at the chain and flashing her a smile.

“ _Mm_ ,” Bris answered noncommittally, averting her eyes from him.

“Hey, are you alright? Wait, I mean—” Sam winced. “Sorry, I know you’re not alright, but what’s wrong?” He stopped and took her hand.

She yanked it back, eyes wide.

“Sorry, I—”

“No, it’s—” she cut him off, looking between her hands and his. She dropped her eyes to the ground, “Sam, you're— Ye don’t hafta do this.”

Sam searched her face. This wasn’t about the curse, something more was wrong here. “Bris... Why do you think we came back? Why do you think I came back?”

“Ye came back to save us, I knew you three wouldn't—”

“No— I mean— Look, just ask me,” Sam grabbed at the necklace, “ask me why.”

She raised uncertain eyes to his, then down to the necklace. “Why did you come, Sam?”

“I came for you,” he answered willingly.

She shook her head. “No. Sam, come now, I told you when ye left—”

“Bris, I came back for you.” He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he couldn’t risk that panic in her eyes again. “Of course we weren’t going to leave any of your family behind, but I came back for you.”

For a moment she looked... almost hopeful, or shocked, disbelieving even. But something shifted, and she took a step back from him. “I don't need you what to come save me.”

Sam flinched back. “I… what?”

“I needed you to help my family! I don’t need you or anybody else to ride in and sweep me off my feet!”

“What?” 

“I'm not a damned damsel in distress!”

“And I'm not a knight! Where is this coming...?” He searched her eyes, and found pain and… disappointment. He quietly tried, “Needing help doesn't make you weak, Bris.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, falling back another step. “Well then... then why do it feel that way?”

“I don’t know, Bris. I can’t answer that for you.”

“Sam...” Her eyes dropped from his face to his chest. She hardened at what she saw there. “Come on, we’re fallin’ behind.”

She took off after the rest of the group, leaving Sam behind her.

———

The group crested a small hill, and could finally see the farm again. Dean wasn’t sure what he expected but it wasn’t what he saw. A group of demons were running out of the farm, vanishing as soon as they got past the wall. The gate to the farm shut behind them, and the scene went quiet.

“Well alright,” Dean said. He looked around and saw the Impala a short distance away. “Better get the hell out of here before something else fucking happens.”

The six of them squeezed into the car, and took off down the dirt road.


	9. Chapter 9

Asmodeus considered the demons before him.

They were small... They were weak...

They had failed him.

He raised his pressed palms before his face, and breathed in deeply. When he spoke, he tried to keep his fury contained to a dignified level and his vessel’s smooth drawl even and calm. “So you're tellin' me that the Winchesters were—”

“And the angel,” one of them interrupted.

Asmodeus let his eyes shut.

They were also _stupid_.

 _"The Winchesters,"_ he strained, "were in our grasp. And you just let them go?”

“We didn’t let them do anything!” another one insisted.

Asmodeus narrowed his eyes at it.

The demon swallowed. “Um... sire.”

He sighed.

How many _months_ had he been King now? How long and _still_ they failed him? How long and still they would not _respect_ him?

 _How_ had his siblings tolerated this?

Well now, he realized, they hadn't, had they?

So he wouldn’t either.

He stood from his throne, towering above his paltry excuses for subjects.

They considered him warily.

He pursed his lips. 

He snapped his fingers behind his back, and one of them exploded in a cloud of ash. The demon next to it screamed and scrambled away. The others all looked up at him.

And they _cowered_ before him.

Asmodeus smirked. _Much_ better.

He smiled down at them, stepping forward to loom over them. “I should destroy you sorry sons of bitches _where you stand—_ ”

“Oh please, sire!” one whimpered, “Please, no!”

His smile grew wider, white teeth peeking out from behind his gray goatee.

“—but I am _nothin’_ if not a _merciful_ Lord...”

He blatantly paused for dramatic effect.

“...So you will get another chance. Kill or capture the Winchesters, _all_ of the Winchesters—” he raised his hand, ready to snap, “—or you will be _eliminated_.”

They trembled before him, rooted to the spot.

_“Now.”_

They scrambled over each other in their bids to escape the throne room.

Asmodeus returned to his throne, and folded his hands in his lap.

Back to more pressing matters.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

It was going to be a challenge to find the selkies. None of them had a phone, and one couldn’t listen for the call of a selkie heart. Direl told them that he had planned to follow Inas south once he had found Ballo and the others, but in the rush they hadn’t agreed upon an exact meeting place. Dean pulled off at a gas station, and Direl and Ballo gathered around Sam’s phone, together looking at the map he pulled up.

“They might be past this town by now. Wilmot,” Direl pointed.

“They might have stopped here,” Ballo pointed at an inlet in a patch of trees, “That would offer cover.”

“Hey, Cas, how far would the protection you put on the river have spread?” Sam asked Cas, standing nearby.

“I’m not sure,” Cas stepped up to them, “I’ve never done it before. It’s highly unorthodox, if not simply blasphemous, to bless an entire body of water.”

“Blasphemous?” Direl asked, unconsciously glancing up at the sky.

“The boat traffic,” Cas explained. “There are sects that decree holy water should not be used in such a way. To bless and use a navigable body of water is… possibly insulting.”

“I’m sure they’d understand, Cas,” Sam assured him.

Cas shrugged.

Meanwhile, Dean had stepped away from the group. He made it seem as though he was heading for the restroom, but slipped around behind the tiny gas station store and  pulled out his phone.

He stared at it.

He could call him.

He really _should_ call him.

He put the phone back in his pocket.

He pulled it back out and dialed.

“ _Squirrel! How lovely to actually hear from you._ ”

“Hey, um,” Dean sighed, “thank you.”

“ _For what?_ ”

Dean could hear his smirk. He knew exactly what.

“For telling us where the selkies were.”

“ _I told you, that was for personal gain, and to keep you out of my hair._ ”

“Cut the bullshit, Crowley, I know you didn’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

Dean spun on the spot and found Crowley behind him, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“And yet,” Crowley continued, “I do an awful lot, don’t I?”

“Well—”

“Stop,” Crowley held up a hand, “I know you don’t have a good answer for that.”

Crowley looked around. He spied a stack of plastic crates, and upon seeing they were acceptably clean, he sat down.

“I do an awful lot for you, and yet how was I repaid?”

Dean didn’t answer.

Crowley shifted on his seat, sitting a little straighter. “You’re not the fool with the cursed necklace, but I still have a question for you, Dean.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at his actual name.

“Why didn’t you bring me back?”

“I didn’t think we could.”

“I know that. I mean my _body_. You didn’t bring back my body.”

“Look, Crowley..." Dean tossed a hand, "it was crazy, there was Lucifer there and the rift and Cas—”

“You didn’t even _try_.”

Dean pursed his lips.

“Oh, come on, really? I was hoping you’d dispute that, I didn’t actually _know.”_  He shoved his hands in his pockets.  _“Really?_ You really didn’t try?”

 “What do you want me to say, Crowley?”

“Well for starters, how about that you felt even an _inkling_ of remorse for leaving me behind!” 

“I did!" Dean threw up his hands, "I do.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes and waited.

Dean spread his palms, “Look, we’ve been trying to go back. I haven’t told Sam or anything, but _—_ I was going to try to bring you back if we could find you.” He let his hands fall. “It’s taking longer than we thought, though, I have no idea what condition we would have found you in, or even _if_ we’d find you—”

Crowley held up a hand, “That’s enough.”

It was Dean’s turn to narrow his eyes. “What, so you’re satisfied now? I’ve groveled enough for you?”

“Oh, quit whining," Crowley rolled his eyes as he stood, "we both know you always loved it when I made you grovel.”

He disappeared.

Dean exhaled a long sigh as he dragged a hand over his face. He was about to turn back, but when he lowered his hand...

He found a red rose, sitting on the crate Crowley had vacated.

Dean picked it up. “What—? Really, Crowley? A rose?”

Cas came around the corner, looking ready for a fight. He relaxed upon seeing Dean. “Oh. You were gone for so long we thought you might have been ambushed.”

“No, just…" Dean held up the phone still in his hand, "made a call.”

Cas’s eyes fell to the rose in his other hand.

“Oh,” Dean held it up. “Just a joke from Crowley.” He tossed it over his shoulder. It landed on the ground, knocking some of the petals off.

“From Crowley?” Cas narrowed his eyes at it.

"Yeah, you know, that dick thinks he’s funny.”

Cas looked back to Dean from the flower. “Right.”

“Well, ah, finished my call. Come on, have they found where the selkies went yet?” Dean moved past Cas and around the corner.

Cas spared the rose a final glance, and followed him.

 

~*~*~*~

 

It turned out they were headed for some private land along the river, next to a ski resort. Fortunately, there hadn't been even an inch of snow yet this whole winter, so there wasn't a single soul in its vast, empty parking lot. Once they parked, they hiked through the woods past some residences they’d rather avoid.

Though they soon wished they hadn't.

“I _—_ am gettin'— _really friggin’ tired_ — of these goddamn _bushes—!"_ Dean complained as they pushed through yet more dense shrubbery. A rosebush caught his leg and dug into his thigh, “ _Fuck—_ _!_ God _damnit,_ these fucking _thorns!_ ”

“Actually, roses don’t have thorns,” Cas corrected as he lithely skirted the bush. “They’re technically called prickles. Thorns are modified stem tissue, while prickles are an extension of the epidermal tiss—”

A glare from Dean stopped him.

Cas shifted under his scrutiny. “I looked up what fun facts are."

“Goddamn it.”

The group pushed on, eventually making it to the river. The bank was overgrown with more dense grass and the shrubs went right up to the waterline.

“We’re never going to find them at this rate,” Dean said.

“We’ll search from the water,” Ballo said. He motioned to Direl and Bris.

Bris pushed past Sam without a backward glance. The selkies flipped on their coats and slipped silently into the water.

Sam, Cas, and Dean began to follow them south on land, continuing to push through the brush.

“Hey, uh,” Dean started, “what’s up with you and Bris?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered. He hated that that was the truth.

“Do you, uh, wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” he had to answer. Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, “Wait a minute, are you actually starting a chick-flick moment?”

“It’s not a chick-flick moment! It's just talking!” Dean fired back. Then he shrugged, “But, yeah, I guess. She, ah, she seems... I dunno. Thought you guys would be glued at the hip right about now.”

“Yeah, I don't know.” Sam pushed a branch aside, “I mean, I thought she was as happy as I was when I found her, but then we talked and... I mean, I don't know what happened in that farm. Maybe something, or— or maybe nothing happened a-and maybe she just...”

“Isn’t interested?” Cas offered.

“Yeah.” Sam tossed a hand, “But I can’t tell! I should be able to tell whether or not—!”

Dean let go of a branch too soon, “Shit, hey—”

It snapped back and struck Sam across the face.

_Whips snapped across his back, the pain seared a moment later—_

Sam staggered into a tree, blinking rapidly. As fast as that happened it was gone, and he could barely even remember what it was.

“Hey. Hey! You alright?” one of them was asking him.

“I don’t know...” Sam shook his head.

“Did it hit you that hard?” Dean. Dean was asking.

“I… I guess…”

A gunshot rang out through the woods.

“Shit,” Dean pulled Sam up and they crashed through the bushes, _prickles_ be damned.

Only two hundred yards ahead of them, the forest opened up into a clearing. The selkies had apparently found a marshy inlet to stop at, but now the scene was just chaos. They were scrambling back into the water, some not even taking the time to slip on their coats before diving in. Ballo, Bris, Direl, and someone else were helping the exhausted selkies up and directing them to the river.

Dean searched for the source of the panic. Cas saw it first.

“Demons,” he said, dropping his blade from his sleeve.

“Hey,” Dean grabbed his arm before he could charge in, “Go check the water, make sure it’s protected.”

Cas looked between the demons and Dean. He frowned at him, but went to the river.

Another shot rang out. The selkies reflexively ducked as one.

That didn't sound like any net gun Dean'd ever heard. He looked off toward the sound, now seeing the demons approaching through the woods in a wide line.

Yeah, Dean was right, those weren't fucking net guns, those were... just regular guns, and they were all pointed up—

One of them saw him and took aim.

He grabbed Sam and pulled them behind a tree for cover. The bullet grazed the tree and sending bark flying.

"What the actual fuck!" Dean shouted as he scrambled for his phone. "Since when do demons carry _guns?"_

"They don't!" Sam answered. Another bullet whizzed past.

The call picked up on the first ring.

“ _And to what do I owe_ _this_ _surprise?_ ”

“Call them off, Crowley!”

“ _Call who off?_ ”

“The demons! Your demons! They’re tryin' to take the selkies back!”

_“I haven’t sent any demons. And I told you I don’t even  want the damned things. ”_

“Then who the hell is shooting at us!?”

“Well they’re not mine,” Crowley said from next to him, putting his phone away. “Hello again, Moose,” he nodded to Sam.

Dean flinched. “Gonna give me a friggin’ heart attack someday,” he grumbled. “Alright, fine, then who’s are they?”

Crowley shrugged, “Asmodeus?”

“Asmodeus?” Sam scrunched his face, “We saw his demons leave the farm. We thought you’d taken it back.”

“Yes, well, I did. Thank you for that, by the way,” Crowley tipped his head to them both. “But he fancies himself the King so he probably thinks it’s still his, and consequently,” he waved a hand at the panicking selkies, “thinks they’re all his too. Like I said, bit obsessive with the collecting.”

“He’s still King? You haven’t kicked him out yet?” asked Dean.

“Why the hell would I do that?” Crowley balked.

“To get your throne back?”

“And why the hell would I do _that?_ I hated being King! I even  _told_ you I hated it.”

“Well, I—”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I expected, you never listened to me before.”

“You’re gonna do this right now?” He was punctuated by a shot flying past them.

Crowley frowned at him. “I guess not.”

He disappeared.

“God damn it!” Dean shouted over the gunfire. “Little bitch, always disappearing from a fight.”

“I heard that—” Crowley reappeared on his other side.

“God _damn_ it!”

“—so watch your mouth or I’ll take my toys and go home.”

“Take your toys—?” Hot, stinking breath blew in their faces, rustling Sam’s hair and sending chills up Dean’s spine.

“Well, not _toys._ ” He patted the hellhound’s invisible neck. He scrunched his nose at it, “Yes, you know Daddy loves you. Now go sic ‘em, darlings.”

With a snarl, at least two, possibly three hellhounds bounded out into the fray.

Cas stood from bolstering the blessing on the river, hearing their barks. He saw the hellhounds dashing through and over the selkies. He raised his angel blade and started toward them—

—but they weren’t attacking the selkies. They were going after the _demons_.

*Crowley,* Cas growled.

The line of demons was getting too close for any sort of comfort, so Cas made to engage them—

 _“Oi!_ Over here, ye bleedin’ tick!” Direl shouted as he ran right at the demons.

Cas made a note to teach him about proper battle tactics someday.

He ran after Direl to help, reaching the fray just as Direl dropped his shoulder and tackled a demon perfectly around the middle. He dodged it’s gun, “Oi!” and stabbed it in the stomach with the angel blade he must have taken back from Ballo. Cas smited another as it aimed a shot at Direl.

“Fuckin' maggot!” Direl shouted as he jumped up and stabbed another one that was sneaking up on Cas.

All the selkies finally made it into the water, but the demons weren’t letting up. It was almost as if—

“Are they after _us?_ ” Dean asked.

 _“Oo,_ now that’s interesting,” Crowley mused.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam peeked from behind his tree. He saw Cas shout for Direl to get to the river, take a few bullets to the chest as Direl fled, and stab a charging demon through the neck. “Oh, good, he’s fine.”

“ _Fine?_ ” Dean strained, watching the same scene.

“Should probably get you out of here,” Crowley reached for their shoulders.

“Wait—!”

The world squeezed Dean too tightly and the next thing he knew they were standing next to the Impala. Dean whirled, searching around them.

“Wait, what about—”

Crowley rolled his eyes. He blinked out and reappeared with Cas.

Cas yanked his shoulder from Crowley’s hand.

“You’re _welcome_ ,” Crowley spread his arms.

“You alright?” Dean asked Cas, eyeing the bloody bullet wounds.

“Fighting alongside hellhounds makes my skin crawl,” Cas said, not catching what Dean was actually worried about.

“Your vessel can do that?” Crowley asked.

“Yes. Why?”

Crowley looked down at his body. “Mine can’t.”

Sam’s phone rang. He pulled it out, relieved for an excuse to stop whatever the heck was happening in front of him.

“Hello?”

“ _You lot alright?"_  Direl asked, _"The guns just stopped an'—_ ”

“Yeah— Yeah, Direl, we’re all okay.” Sam glanced over at Crowley and walked away from the group.

“I’m hurt, Samantha!” Crowley called after him.

“ _How did they find us, Sam?_ ” Direl asked.

“I don’t know, but they weren’t after you, okay? Let everyone else know, they weren’t after you. We think they were after us.”

_“What? Well, fuck, alright then.”_

“We’ll meet up with you and get a plan together, okay?” Sam assured him, “We’re gonna make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“ _Yeah, okay... The family’s gonna stay in the river but there’s a little town here, think I sees a pub. God, I could about murder a whiskey—"_

“Great. We’ll meet you there.”

They hung up and Sam returned to the little circle. “The selkies are fine, we’re gonna meet them in town,” he told Dean.

“Well then, it looks like you’ve got it handled from here.” Crowley took a step back. “Hopefully you’ll call me with something a little less stressful next time, yeah?” He turned a little toward Dean _—_

And winked.

Then he vanished.

Dean tried not to react, but quickly glanced around. Good, Sam and Cas wouldn’t have seen that.

A weight appeared in his jacket pocket. He reached a hand in to see what it was...

It was heart-shaped.

“Well, let’s get going,” he said, trying to keep the surprise from his voice. When Sam and Cas went to get in the car, Dean pulled the thing out of his pocket.

It was a small red box. The picture showed chocolates, but the label was in a language he didn't understand, maybe French?

The note written on the front, however, he could read just fine:

_Since you didn’t seem to like the last one._

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

His demons kneeled before his throne, ragged and shaking.

Asmodeus glared at them. More failures.

“Again? You let them go _again?_ ”

“They had help!” one pleaded.

It exploded with a snap.

“I am downright _tired—_ ” _puff_ “—of your _excuses!” puff_  He killed two more. “I _gave_ you the weaponry, I _gave_ you the bait, what _more_ can I _do?”_

“The angel wouldn’t die!” one demon squeaked. “We shot him and shot him—”

_Puff_

Asmodeus rubbed at his temples. “What _bullets_ did you use?”

None of them answered.

_Puff_

“Just bullets!” “We robbed a store!” “The ones that fit the guns!” “I think they were .45’s!”

He ran a hand down his face, tugging his goatee. “You used… _regular bullets_ … on an angel.”

The remaining demons trembled.

_Puff, puff, puff_

The last demon was curled into a ball, clamping its hands over its head.

“You will go forth and tell the rest that this failure is unacceptable,” he told the demon. “And tell the lower levels to torture some of the more _intelligent_ souls on the racks, would you? I’m gonna run out of subjects at this rate.”

The demon fled his presence. 

With a sigh, Asmodeus leaned back in his throne and stroked his goatee.

The Winchesters moved up a spot on his to-do list.


	10. Chapter 10

With some texting back and forth, they found the bar Direl had meant and met him inside. Ballo joined him, and much to Sam’s elation, so did Bris. The group found a table and ordered some drinks.

“So everyone’s in another bay,” Direl said, “but how’re we gonna get away from these demons? They can show up anywheres! We can’t run forever.”

The table went quiet with thought.

Sam slapped a hand on his chest, then on Cas’s arm, “Hey, remember when the angels were after us? Way back in the Apocalypse?”

“Which one?” Cas asked.

The three selkies raised an eyebrow.

“Long story,” Sam gave them a pleading look. “The first one, you protected Dean and I from the angels, remember?”

“Yes, I carved warding on your ribs.” Cas’s eyes flicked to Dean’s chest.

“Could you do that for them? Hide them from the demons?”

Cas considered it for a moment. “I could, yes.”

“Wait, what does all that mean?” Ballo asked.

Cas looked like he was about to explain, but then he said, “I could show you.”

Ballo regarded him warily, and his hand might have twitched toward his blade, but when no one else put up an objection he said, “Alright.”

Cas got up and walked around the table to Ballo. He put a hand on his chest, Ballo gritted his teeth, and—

And it was over in a blink. Cas went back to his seat.

Ballo looked from his chest to Cas. “What, that’s it?”

Cas nodded.

“Wha— Well I’ve gotten tattoos worse than that!” Ballo laughed, loud and booming. “An’ now the demons can’t find me?”

“With that warding I think no one but God could find you,” Cas said without a hint of irony.

“Oh. Shit.” Ballo looked down at his chest again.

“An' you can do that for all of us?” Direl asked.

“Yes.”

Ballo sprang from his seat, “My _god_ , that’s savage! Let’s go!”

Cas looked between Sam and Dean. They shrugged and nodded. Cas stood from the table.

“Hang on,” Direl asked, “ah, before you go…” he waved between Bris and himself.

Cas quickly warded Direl. But as he approached Bris, her upper lip twitched and she tensed, betraying the effort she was making to keep still when he warded her as well.

"Grand! Now come on, lad," Ballo said, "I can't wait to tell everyone else! God, this is fantastic!" He threw an arm around Cas, and led him out of the bar. 

Direl's gaze followed Cas as they left. “Sure is nice having him around,” he said as he sipped his liquor.

“We don’t ‘have him around’,” Dean snapped.

“Oh, a'course not," Direl said in a conspiratorial tone, "he's far more'n that, right?"

Dean glared at him.

"Alright, alright, take that puss off your face, I’m only sayin’.” He winked at Dean.

Both Sam and Dean glared at him.

“Sorry,” he said mostly to Sam. He leaned over to him as he tossed his eyebrows at Dean, “But ye can't blame me for havin’ a lash, right?”

Sam narrowed his eyes further. 

“ _Nyeh,_  sorry.” He jumped up from his seat and practically ran to the bar.

Sam and Dean both huffed.

“I should probably go too,” Bris said. Dean jumped at her voice, having apparently forgotten she was there.

He glanced over at Sam. He looked crestfallen.

“Hey, wait, um,” Dean floundered, “I’m just gonna… Um. Over there.” He pointed vaguely and left the table.

Sam watched him go and rolled his eyes. “You were almost stuck with that,” he said to Bris.

She betrayed a grin, but quickly schooled her face.

It worried him, but... she was here wasn't she? She definitely didn't have to come here, so... maybe he should at least try.

“Hey, um, could we… Could we talk, Bris? Just talk?”

She looked him over. “Aye. We could talk.”

“Great,” he flashed her a grin, “great.”

Neither of them spoke.

“Did I—” “Are you—”

They chuckled.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “You first.”

Bris shook her head, “No, you go ahead.”

“Alright...” He grasped his beer tighter. “Did I… do something? Did I do something wrong?”

“Well, ah—" She sighed. "No, Sam.” Her shoulders dropped. “I just— No, you haven’t done anythin’.”

“Oh good,” he exhaled, “I thought—” He spun the beer a little. “Am I, um— am I making you uncomfortable? Am I… going where I’m not wanted?”

"Well— I—" She shifted in her seat. “No, it’s… it’s not really that, Sam.”

“Then… I don’t understand. What happened?”

She picked up a napkin and began tearing it. “I told you when ye left.”

Sam tried for a smile. “I've got to be honest, that conversation wasn’t all that clear.”

The corner of her mouth twitched up and she glanced at the necklace.

“Oh, no, not because of that.” Sam fiddled with it. “That’s only with questions. I’m actually just being honest.”

She sighed. “A'course ye are,” she said, and the twitch became a small smile.

This nervousness, it was so unlike the powerhouse he had met a just few days ago, the woman who was going to take on an afanc by herself, take Sam just for fun. He swore, if he ever found that witch again—

“It’s, um,” she pulled him back to the present, “I told you that… I won’t make you happy Sam.”

“That’s not true—”

“It _is,_ though,” she grimaced, tossing a hand at his chest. “Ye don’t need me and I’m not gonna fix anythin’.”

"I don't under—”

“You only took a shine to me because I look like her,” she suddenly burst.

Sam recoiled. “And you only ‘took a shine to me’ because my brother didn't want you, seems like we're even.”

They faced each other down in heated silence. Then the glares melted as what they'd said sank in.

“I'm sorry,” they said together.

“That was shitty—” “So shitty.”

Sam shifted forward in his seat, leaning on the table. “Look, this isn't the right thing— the romantic thing to say, but in the name of airing everything out I'll admit that that's what probably what first drew me to you.” She met his eyes and he held her gaze. “But everything after that— _e_ _verything_ after— Bris, you're not her. And I don't want you to be her.”

She faltered and glanced down at the table, grasping the torn napkin tightly. “I… Sam…”

“Please, Bris. You’re wrong. You can make me happy. And I want to make you happy. _God,_ I want to make you happy. I already— I want to make you laugh, and see you smile. Every day if I could. I want to see that smile every day.”

She couldn’t answer for a moment. Her hand twitched toward her drink, untouched since they arrived. “Sam, even if... Even if..." She shook her head. "You don't need me, Sam."

“I do, though, I do need you—”

“Dammit, you don't! I can _see_ your heart!” 

He looked down at it, suddenly hating it. “No, I—” He grabbed his jacket and tried to close it over his chest. 

"Fine." Throwing caution to the wind, he reached over and he took her hand on the table. "Fine then, I don't need you. I  _want_ you, Bris.”

She grasped his hand back in shock, sending a warmth shooting through him.

But she shook her head again, and tears welled in her eyes. “I won't offer you my coat—”

“Then don't!” He put his other hand over hers. “Then I don't want it! I don't care about that, I want _you_. I want to try to make this work with _you._ ”

“Sam…” 

He searched her face, “Do you… Do you want _me_ , Bris?”

“I—” Her eyes widened. “No one's ever asked me that.”

He gaped. “What? No one? Ever?” He shook it off and gripped her hand tighter. "Well I'm asking now, Bris. Do you want me?”

She dropped her eyes to the table, looking at her drink. Her answer was almost too quiet to hear.

*More than anythin’.*

“Then stay. Please, Bris, stay with me.” He softened, shoulders dropping as he tried to meet her eyes again. "Please, let me— I want to make you happy. I at least want to try.”

She closed her eyes, and for one shining moment Sam thought she was about to agree. But then something changed. That awful shift eclipsed her again. "Stop it."

"What—?"

"Stop it! Stop being so—!" She pulled her hand away. "Sam, I can't... I can't do this."

Before he could say anything she shoved her chair back and ran out of the bar.

“Wait—!” He jumped up and ran after her.

He burst out door, frantically searching the parking lot. “Bris!”

There. She was running toward the water.

“Bris!” He sprinted as fast as he could and just barely caught up before she reached the seawall, stopping her by the arm. “Please, wait—”

“No!” She pulled out of his grasp. “I can’t do this! I can’t give you my coat.  _You don't need me."_

“That doesn’t matter—!”

“Of _course_ it matters, Sam!"

"But  _why?"_

"Because I have a _purpose!"_ she cried. "I have a purpose that I have to fill. The Lord put me on this Earth for a _reason,_  to _help_ people! You don’t need me, I can’t help you, you're already whole on your own! So I have to move on, no matter how much— how much I—”

Her tears finally fell.

“Bris...” He reached a hand toward her but she flinched away.

Sam realized that this might be the last time he ever saw her, this might be the last chance he ever got.

So he decided to go big.

“You know, Bris, I've _met_ God.”

“You—” she raised her eyes, “you _what_ now?” She took a step back.

Maybe too big. “I've met God. Sorry, just— Remember when the sun almost died? I was there for that. God's sister had a tantrum.”

“I’m sorry,” she held up a hand and sniffled, “Angels and now God's got a sister?”

“I know,” he sighed. “Believe me, I know. But the point is, I _met_ him. I _spoke_ to him. And he—” Sam looked from the disbelief on her face to the necklace on his chest. “Ask me what he’s like.”

“What?”

“Ask me what God’s like.” Sam grasped the chain, shaking the amulet at her.

She looked from it to him. “What— what’s God like?” she asked cautiously.

“He's a self-centered, careless dick.”

“Wha— Sam!”

Honestly, Sam was as surprised by his answer as she was, but he pressed on. “It's true, Bris. He doesn't care what we all do down here. He made it, he came down and played around in it, told my brother and I to take care of the place— then he left. He's not even _here_ , Bris, he got his sister and he just...  _left_ again!” He tossed his hands. “It doesn't matter if you pray. It doesn't matter if you followed the rules. It doesn't matter how  _reverent_ you were or if you had  _faith._ Because at the end of the day, he didn't even  _care._ He doesn't give a shit what we do down here. So if you're… clinging to some kind of duty… like it's all you can ever be because God started you off that way— You don't have to. If you’re afraid of going to Hell, you don’t have to be. You're gonna go to Heaven just for being generally good in this life. And I _know_ that, I told you, I've _been_ there, and to Hell. And Purgatory, too.”

He stopped, and the weight of all that hit him, “Oh wow, uh…” 

It hit Bris too, it hit her harder. “You’ve… And He...” She trailed off, just staring at him.

“I’m sorry—” 

“Sam, I just—” She shook her head, looking him up and down as she fell back a step. "This has never… _I’ve_ never… And you…”

Sam stepped forward and went to take her hand, intending to say something, to comfort her, to reassure her, but she jerked away from him again.

“I just… This is all too much. I... I need some time, Sam... I need to go.”

She moved around him for the water. This time he didn’t chase her.

She flipped on her coat and slid into the river.

 

———

 

Sam eventually wandered back into the bar. He found their table again and fell into his chair.

Bris hadn’t touched her drink.

He downed his beer, grabbed her glass, and took the whole thing as a shot.

Dean came back to the table, gingerly taking his own seat again.

“So, ah—”

“Don’t.”

Dean's eyebrows jumped, but he stayed quiet as he set another beer in front of Sam.

Sam took it and started chugging.

“Whoa, hey—”

He clunked the bottle on the table. “Don’t.”

“...Alright.”

Dean leaned back in his chair. Something caught his eye.

“What the hell?” Dean said, waving his beer at the bar, “I thought Direl was into dudes.”

“Yeah?” Sam grunted, not actually caring.

“Yeah! He pulled all that crap with me and now he's over there chatting up a Desperate Housewife. Who does that?”

“Bi people, Dean,” Sam had to answer. Fuck you, necklace.

Dean pulled a face. “What?” 

“People who are bisexual?” the necklace had Sam clarify.

Dean continued the face.

“Jesus, dude, you know what that is, right?”

“What— of course I do!” Dean balked. He grabbed his beer and took a long drag from it.

Sam eyed his brother, “And you know that’s a thing _outside_ of porn, right?”

“ _Tch,_ yeah,” he said too loud. His finger picked at the bottle’s label.

“Uh-huh,” Sam grunted. “Well, anyway.”

He didn’t continue.

Dean looked over his little brother. Sam was slouched in his chair, staring at the table but not really looking at anything. Dean snatched the beer from in front of him and finished it himself.

“Hey—!”

“Come on, let’s go find Cas and get out of here.”

 

———

 

When they left the bar, Cas was kneeling by the river. As they approached him he stood and wiped his hand off on his coat.

“The selkies good?” Dean asked.

“Yes, they're very happy,” Cas said with a little smile. “There’s one named Inas. I liked them very much.”

“That’s great, buddy,” Dean said only somewhat sarcastically. “You got ‘em all warded?”

“Yes, and I also found that they had all been marked with a tracking spell. I’m sure you don’t want the details—”

“Thank you.”

“—but now they and their future children will no longer be able to be tracked by the demons.”

Dean glanced at where Cas had just been kneeling. “And the river…?”

“I’ve removed the blessing. It would have dissipated as new water flowed through, but I wasn’t comfortable leaving it.”

“Fair enough,” Dean shrugged.

“So now what?” Sam asked.

“Well, the selkies were hoping they could go home,” said Cas.

“That’s going to take time,” Sam sighed. “There’s a lot of paperwork to forge, if we even can. Forty people that aren’t supposed to exist trying to enter Ireland will probably draw Homeland Security’s attention. Or whatever Ireland’s got.”

“It’s a place to start though,” Dean clapped him on the shoulder.

Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Hey, it’s Donatello," Dean said as he opened the text message. “He says we should head back right away and... hey, he’s finished the tablet!” Dean looked up with a smile. “Awesome!”

“So we’ve got the spell?” Sam asked, a little excitement peeking through.

“Guess so, asking him right now.” Dean sent his return message and pulled out his keys, “Alright, we’re back on track! Let’s go!”

As they got in the car, Sam pulled out his own phone. He sent a text to Direl as they pulled out of the parking lot.

_Something’s come up back in Kansas. We’re heading back now. I’ll work on the plan to get you home from there._

He fought with how to word the next text.

_Could you tell Bris she can call me anytime?_

Direl's return message said:

_Aye, mate. She’ll get the message._

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

A few weeks later, Asmodeus sat on his throne. Some new information had come in, and he was considering his next move. There were multiple ways he could go about this, after all.

Ketch strode into the throne room. “You summoned me?”

“Ah, yes,  _Mis-_ tuh Ketch!” he beamed. “ _Just_ the man I wanted.”

“Yes, I know. You summoned me.”

He frowned.

Ketch tossed an eyebrow.

“Yes. I require your services.”

“That _is_ why you pay me.”

He scowled.

The corner of Ketch’s mouth twitched.

Asmodeus narrowed his eyes. _Fine then_ , he decided.

“This assignment is... different, Mistuh Ketch.”

“Is it now?”

“ _It is,_ ” Asmodeus said through gritted teeth. He collected himself. “You have had past _associations_ with the Winchesters, haven’t you?”

“That’s one way of putting it—”

“Then that’s the way I’ll _put. it_.” Asmodeus raised his voice. “You are goin’ to tell me everything you know about them, startin’ with this spell they’re puttin’ together, real big magic sort of affair.”

“Right,” Ketch confirmed. “Their pet angel was just in the Holy Land gathering ingredients.”

Asmodeus frowned. He leaned forward, “You _knew_ this and didn’t tell me?”

Ketch shrugged, “You didn’t ask.”

A beat passed as they considered each other.

Asmodeus threw his hand toward the ground and Ketch was roughly forced to his knees.

“I see the archangel grace is doing you well,” Ketch forced out through the pain.

Asmodeus ignored that remark. He approached Ketch slowly, deliberately, “I shouldn’t have to _ask_ you, Mistuh Ketch,” he loomed over him. “In fact, I think I’m done askin’ much of anythin’. I’ve grown weary of your _sass_ altogether.” He placed a hand on Ketch’s forehead. “Now you will _give_ , Mistuh Ketch, you will give all to your King. Because I own you, boy. Because you are _mine_.”

His eyes lit with stolen grace. Ketch squeezed his eyes against the invasion.

It was over in just a moment. Ketch slumped over, breathing heavily.

“Interestin’,” Asmodeus nodded. “Very interestin’.”

He turned on his heel.

“You are _dismissed_ , Mistuh Ketch,” he said as he strode back to his throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! Thank you so much for reading! Just like last time I'd like to take this moment to politely ask that if you enjoyed this story, please share it! I'd love for as many people to get to see this as possible!
> 
> If you ever wanna chat I'm @sassysousa on Tumblr or of course you can leave a comment here. :) Thank you again for reading!


	11. Crack Comic!




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